


Not Quite A Pro

by Butterynutjob



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, D/s undertones, Dubious Consent, Facials, Gay!Charles, Head Injury, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prostitution, Rough Oral Sex, Straight!Erik, even more dubcon, handjob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7393081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/pseuds/Butterynutjob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik is going through a rough patch. As he faces his first night of sleeping on the street in the rain, a wealthy stranger gives him another option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The car had passed by him three times before Erik decided to lift his head and glare at the driver. The car slowed down and pulled over almost immediately. 

Erik didn’t move from where he was seated on the concrete, his arms on his bent knees, under the freeway overpass that was currently keeping him out of the rain. He watched the car warily as it backed up until he had a line of sight with the driver’s eyes. The passenger window rolled down. 

It was a nice car, a Maserati, wet from driving in the rain. The driver licked his lips a couple times before he spoke; Erik supposed that indicated nervousness. Perhaps the man thought he had drugs to sell. 

“I’m not holding,” he said, loud enough for the man to hear, as the man simultaneously said something else that was covered by Erik’s speaking. 

The brown-haired man frowned slightly. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he said in a posh British accent. 

“I don’t have any drugs,” Erik said, louder. The man’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“That’s good…?” the man said, his voice going up at the end like it was a question. 

Erik cocked his head to one side and frowned at the man in confusion. That was good?

“I’m not...I don’t know how this—usually goes,” the man said haltingly from the car. He licked his lips again. “Is this a—bad time?”

Erik stared at the man for almost ten full seconds while his mind processed what he could mean. He noticed that the man’s brown hair was wavy and slightly too long, curling haphazardly around his collar and ears. He was wearing a collared shirt and a tie, but the tie had been loosened considerably. He had a little ginger stubble on his chin and his cheeks were slightly pink. 

The man in the car looked pretty harmless. Erik couldn’t imagine the man being a danger to him. 

Erik’s assessment must have taken too long, because the man clenched his jaw and said, “Right,” then started to pull away. 

“Wait,” Erik said, standing. His heart was pounding. He was pretty sure he knew what the man wanted, but...he’d slept on the street for the first time the night before, and consequently his rucksack had been stolen during the night. His car had been impounded two days ago and Armando had told him a week ago he couldn’t stay at his place anymore. 

It wasn’t a permanent situation, Erik knew. He was employable. He was just having a rough patch. It was just a run of bad luck. 

The car stopped immediately. Erik approached the open passenger window. Was he doing this? How could he be doing this?

He bent down so he could see the man. His eyes were blue. “What do you want?” Erik asked, more curious than challenging. 

The man’s lips parted slightly as his eyes moved down Erik’s face to his lips and then his shoulders. “I...I want—Nothing...nothing unusual. I’m just...I just think you are—” he swallowed, and brought his eyes back up to meet Erik’s. “—very attractive.”

Erik glanced around the car. Leather seats, fully upgraded interior. The man appeared to be wearing a Rolex, too. He tried to focus on what he needed and not what would be expected of him. “Not here,” Erik said. 

The brown-haired man blinked at him in surprise. “Oh, no, of course not. I have a hotel room. We can go there.”

Erik nodded thoughtfully. Part of his mind was screaming at him, but his survival instincts were guiding him. “$100, right now,” he said. He could grab the money and run. 

“Is that all?” the man said, very surprised. “Or is that like...a down payment?”

Erik tried not to show his surprise. So the man was expecting to pay significantly more. That was good to know. “More like a security deposit,” Erik said. 

The man looked thoughtful and reached into his pocket to pull out a wallet. He unhurriedly got a $100 bill out of the wallet and held it in front of him, well out of Erik’s reach.

He wanted Erik to get in the car, Erik realized. Well, the man wasn’t completely stupid. And maybe running away wasn’t the best course of action...after all, he still needed a place to sleep that night. 

Erik opened the car door and got inside. He shut the door and buckled his belt before he reached over to take the $100 bill from the driver and stuffed it in his pants pocket.

The man was visibly pleased and excited. “I’m Charles,” he said in a low voice, his eyes roaming over Erik’s shoulders and chest. 

“Erik,” Erik said, before he thought that he should have used a fake name. Oh well. 

“I’m sorry if I don’t know the right...lingo,” Charles said, as he smoothly pulled away from the curb, checking his mirrors. He seemed much more relaxed than he had before Erik had gotten into his car. “This is not something I usually do.”

“Well, me neither,” Erik muttered under his breath. Charles shot him a quick glance but didn’t say anything. 

Neither of them spoke again until they reached Charles’ hotel, the Greymalkin. It was only a few minutes away from where he’d picked Erik up, Erik was relieved to see. So if he had to make a quick getaway he’d know where he was going. 

Charles had the valet park the car, and then indicated for to Erik to follow him into the hotel lobby with an incline of his head. He was shorter than Erik had been expecting, and the realization made Erik relax a little bit more. Charles seemed remarkably self-possessed and confident as they walked through the extremely posh hotel lobby. Erik trailed him, trying to ignore the staff who were giving him surprised looks and then quickly looking away. In his ripped and filthy jeans, Iron Maiden T-shirt and leather jacket, he supposed he looked a little out of place, especially considering Charles was wearing most of what looked like a very expensive suit. 

They stepped into the elevator and Charles eyed Erik speculatively after he pushed a button. “Did you really mean that you don’t do this often?” he asked quietly. 

Erik met Charles’ eyes for a moment, then looked studiously at the elevator door. “I’ve never done this before,” he said after a moment. He glanced at Charles to see his reaction. 

Charles’ eyebrows were raised, but he didn’t seem particularly alarmed. “Well, that’s interesting,” he said, as the elevator doors opened. He indicated the door across the hall and opened it to let Erik in before him. “You do know why I picked you up, though?”

“I got the gist,” Erik said dryly, and Charles smiled wryly as he shut the door behind Erik. 

The room was actually a spacious suite; Erik was in the living room area, standing next to a couch facing a large-screen television. Through an open door to the side, he could see a bed in an adjoining room. He turned to face Charles, who was slowly coming closer to Erik. He was nearly within reach when Erik said, his mouth suddenly dry, “We should probably discuss the specifics.”

“I agree,” Charles said. He was licking his lips and looking Erik up and down. Erik thought that the bulge in the man’s pants might be the beginning of an erection and he suddenly felt himself start sweating. 

“I’d like to take a shower,” Erik said, which startled Charles into a chuckle and a grin. 

“Of course,” Charles said, just as Erik said, “Alone.” 

The smile on Charles’ face dimmed a bit, but he nodded. “And then?” he said. “I assume you have condoms?”

Erik shook his head. Charles frowned and cocked his head. “Really? That’s not…”

“I told you,” Erik said quietly, looking Charles in the eye. “I’ve never done this before.”

Charles blinked. “I thought you meant for money? You don’t mean…?”

“I’ve never had sex with a man,” Erik said. The subtle fall in Charles’ face at his words made Erik feel a pinch of guilt in his gut. He looked away. 

“Are you straight?” Charles asked. Erik wasn’t looking at him, but there was both resignation and annoyance in his voice. 

“Yes, but...I’m here. I knew what you wanted when I got in your car. I’m willing to...” It was hard for Erik to complete the thought. He swallowed and trailed off. He didn’t know exactly what he was willing to do.

“Do you think I want to be touching someone who doesn’t want me touching him?” Charles asked sharply. 

Erik felt his ire rise. “Isn’t that what paying for sex is?” he snapped back.

Charles pressed his lips together and stared Erik down for a moment. Erik wondered if he’d gone too far. He wasn’t looking forward to whatever kind of sex Charles wanted, but he was looking forward to sleeping somewhere warm and dry. One might even unfold into a bed, he realized. “I’m sorry I’m not experienced,” he said in a gentle voice, that he hoped sounded a little sexy to Charles. “I don’t plan to leave you high and dry. I’m…” Erik tried to think of something encouraging to say that wasn’t a lie. “I’m open-minded.”

Charles lowered his eyes to Erik’s shoulders and slowly exhaled. He licked his lips again—it seemed to be a habit for him, given that his lips looked more than a little chapped—then walked over the the kitchenette by the door they had come in through. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Yes, the strongest you’ve got,” Erik said in relief. If he was drunk, it would be a lot easier to do this. 

Charles paused with his back to Erik, just before he opened the refrigerator. He huffed out a short and somewhat bitter laugh. “Sorry, I don’t have any alcohol,” he said, in a clipped tone. He retrieved a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and brought it over to hand to Erik.

“A hotel room without alcohol?” Erik asked in surprise, accepting the bottle of water.

“As I requested,” Charles said, meeting Erik’s eyes as if in challenge. 

“Oh.” Erik thought that meant that Charles was probably an alcoholic. _Everyone’s got problems,_ he thought to himself as he downed the bottle of water. 

“Tell you what,” Charles said carefully, watching Erik’s neck as he swallowed. “Why don’t you shower first, and then we can discuss the...specifics. While you are doing that, I will acquire a real drink for you. What do you like?”

“Whiskey,” Erik said promptly. He felt a little relieved. He wasn’t a big drinker, but it would certainly help him relax a bit. “I don’t need a lot,” he hastened to clarify. 

Charles arched an eyebrow at him. “Good,” he said simply. He lifted his arm and indicated the bedroom. “The shower is in the bedroom, to the right. You can wear the robe when you are done, if you like.”

The robe, under which Erik would be naked, because he would be about to have sex with a man. There was no reason that should be the thing that made him nervous, but his heart started pounding. He nodded jerkily and headed in the direction Charles indicated. 

**

The shower felt amazing, and Erik realized he couldn’t remember how many days it had been since he’d had one. He supposed about a week ago, at Armando’s. He’d been meaning to see if the YMCA would let him shower, but fortunately Charles had picked him up…

Charles. Who wanted to have sex with him. Erik scrubbed himself harder. 

He was not attracted to men. He didn’t think he was homophobic, but the idea of touching someone else’s penis was, or of a man touching his penis was...kind of unpleasant. He hoped Charles wasn’t expecting him to get an erection and frowned when he realized that their options for sex diminished if it didn’t require Erik to be hard. His stomach did a flip-flop when he contemplated the options that remained. 

He turned off the shower and put on the robe Charles had indicated after he dried off. He looked at himself in the mirror. His stubble was long enough that it almost looked like a deliberate beard. He wondered if he should shave but then thought Charles could tell him if he wanted that. 

He scooped up his dirty clothes and took them out of the bathroom with him, into the bedroom. Charles was sitting on the bed, looking at his phone, but he glanced up when Erik walked out. “There’s whiskey on the kitchen counter,” he said. “Please forgive me for not pouring for you.”

“No problem,” Erik said. He walked into the kitchen area and hesitated when he saw the front door. He could leave right now; he had all his clothes under his arm, he was $100 richer and he’d gotten a shower…

He shook his head. It felt wrong to take advantage of Charles that way; he seemed like a nice enough guy. Not to mention that he probably had a lot more money for Erik if Erik could get over his foibles. 

Erik found a glass and poured himself two fingers that he knocked back quickly. He relished the burn, and the tingle in his stomach; it was only a few seconds before he felt warmer, considering that he hadn’t eaten since that morning. He poured himself another two fingers and almost took it in the bedroom with him when it occurred to him that Charles might not like that. He downed it. 

He was still carrying his clothes for some reason, so he put the small (and smelly, he realized, now that he was clean) bundle down just outside the bedroom door. 

Charles was sitting on the side of the bed and looked up as he approached. “Are you ready to talk?”

“Talk?” Erik frowned slightly. He remained standing, close to the bedroom door.

A small smile tugged at the side of Charles’ mouth. “You asked about specifics. Since you are...new to this, I think it would be a good idea if both of us are very clear about what we want to get out of this evening.”

Erik was feeling pleasantly buzzed. “Well said,” he said. “I don’t think I will get an erection,” he admitted, the whiskey loosening his tongue. 

Charles made a face, but then shrugged. “Alright. Look, let me make this easy on you...you give me a handjob.”

Erik thought about it, nodding slowly. “I can do that,” he said. After all, he jerked himself off countless times. 

“I want you to be naked,” Charles said. 

Erik had assumed that. He shrugged. “Okay.”

“And I want to finish on your face.” Charles said the words quietly but deliberately, his eyes on Erik’s.

Erik’s eyes widened and his breathing quickened. He couldn’t let that happen; it was humiliating, degrading. He wasn’t just a...whore. 

Except that he was. He looked down. It was hard to look at Charles, who was clearly very excited about his last request. “Five hundred,” Erik said, his voice cutting out at the end. “And I stay the night. On the couch in your living room area.”

“Five hundred, for an handjob and a facial? No.” Charles paused and Erik’s stomach sank until he spoke again. “I will give you an extra hundred above what is already in your pocket. But yes, you can stay the night.”

Erik felt desperate. He wanted as much money as he could get out of this, but he didn’t want Charles to ask him to leave. “A hundred and fifty extra,” Erik said. He swallowed. He almost said ‘please,’ but then realized he might have a better bargaining chip than just being pathetic. Taking a deep breath, he slowly tugged on the tie keeping the robe closed and let it hang open, exposing himself—and his penis—to Charles’ view. He looked down at himself. He was a little thin, but he didn’t think that would put Charles off. He lifted his head to see if opening his robe had had the desired effect on Charles. 

Charles was definitely looking. “One hundred and fifty extra,” he agreed, his eyes lingering on Erik’s penis. “And I’ll have your laundry washed.” 

“Fine.” Erik shrugged the robe off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Now that they’d reached an understanding, he wanted to get it done with as quickly as possible, so he could get as much sleep as possible. “What now?”

Charles bit his lip and started hastily taking off his clothes. He had apparently removed his shoes and socks earlier, so it was less than a minute before he was naked as well. He lay back on the bed and started fondling his cock, looking at Erik. He didn’t say anything for long enough that Erik almost spoke, but then he said softly, “Come here and straddle my thighs.”

Before he could think too much about it, Erik clambered onto the bed and straddled Charles’ thighs as the man had requested. His flaccid penis and balls hung down a little lower than Erik would have wanted, but they didn’t touch Charles’ thighs. “Like this?”

Charles’s penis was fully erect now, and he was stroking it evenly while looking up at Erik. Erik stared down at Charles, feeling not as uncomfortable as he thought he would, thanks to the alcohol. Charles’ lips were parted and Erik realized that he had been subconsciously only looking at Charles’ face, so he deliberately lowered his eyes to his shoulders, which were broad, and pale, like the rest of him. He had pectorals and biceps defined enough that it was clear he worked out; but not so much that his abdominal muscles were defined. 

“Are you sure you’re straight?” Charles asked, breathing heavily. “You seem to be enjoying the view.”

Erik thought that emphasizing that he was not attracted to Charles probably wouldn’t get this done any sooner. “You’re in good shape,” he said instead, raising his eyes to meet Charles’. 

Charles tipped his head back, watching Erik through slits, his Adam’s apple sticking up prominently in the middle of his pale neck. He was still masturbating and his penis was turgid and red now. “Give me your hand,” he said softly to Erik, reaching his hand out.

Erik swallowed and allowed Charles to guide his hand to Charles’ cock. It was a little smaller than Erik’s, but he supposed that was not something he should comment on either, in the interest of getting done with this sooner. 

He gripped Charles’ penis and started stroking. “Lube?” he asked curiously. He always preferred to use lotion or something similar. 

“No,” Charles breathed. “Just—” instead of completing the sentence verbally, he put his hand over Erik’s and changed the angle of Erik’s hand slightly, then showed him how he liked it, with a tight grip so Charles’ foreskin slid over the head over his cock and then back with each stroke.

Erik was fascinated, despite himself. He didn’t have a foreskin and had never seen an erect penis with one that he knew of. He stroked for a moment with Charles’ hand guiding his and then felt a strange sense of satisfaction when Charles moved his own hand away with a shuddering sigh and nodded encouragingly at Erik. 

He watched what he was doing with his hand, then watched Charles’ face for cues as to what felt best, varying his grip a bit. Charles looked rapturous, with his mouth open and forehead crumpled. He seemed to be enjoying his inexperienced handjob a lot more than Erik had expected he would, actually. 

It occurred to Erik in a flash that Charles was very vulnerable like this. Erik didn’t have to continue; he could choke Charles until he passed out and rob him, if he wanted to. Charles had a lot of valuable items, after all; he could probably steal the car, too…

“Is something wrong?” Charles asked. 

Erik didn’t realize he had stopped stroking. _What isn’t wrong?_ he almost said, but held his tongue. Instead, he shook his head and started stroking again, gripping a little tighter than necessary for a moment because it made Charles gasp and roll his head back. 

No, Erik couldn’t rob this man. If Charles had been more cruel, or unfair, perhaps. But he seemed like a good man. Or was Erik being too trusting? Perhaps after Charles got what he wanted, he wouldn’t hold up his end of the bargain.

Erik wondered how much actual prostitutes worried about getting paid. Did they have some system, other than the honor system?

Charles reached for Erik’s soft penis and Erik stopped stroking Charles’s cock immediately. “That wasn’t part of the deal,” he said sharply. 

Charles blinked up at him, looking like he was trying to make his eyes focus. “Oh! Sorry, I...forgot for a moment. Just wanted to reciprocate.”

“Not necessary,” Erik said brusquely, then added, a little softer, “Sorry.”

Charles let out a breathy laugh and then put his both of his hands under his back. “So I don’t slip again,” he explained, giving Erik a small smile. 

Oddly enough, it was seeing Charles in a quasi-bondage position, unable to use his hands, that made Erik feel the first twinge of arousal in himself. 

Erik flexed his thighs and Charles’s eyes widened slightly, looking up at him. Keeping eye contact with Charles, Erik spat into his hand and brought it back to Charles’ cock. 

Charles actually whimpered, his eyes glued to Erik. Erik maintained eye contact while he stroked Charles’ cock, rougher than before. He wanted this to be done quickly. The more Charles liked it, the faster it would be done. He put his left hand on the bed next to Charles and put his weight on it, leaning forward, still keeping his eyes trained on the other man’s face. Unfortunately, the new position brought his balls into contact with Charles’. Erik gritted his teeth and tried not to flinch at the contact. 

“I’m close,” Charles panted.

“Good,” Erik murmured. The sooner the better. 

“Do you want to lie down or be on your knees?” Charles asked. 

Erik blinked in confusion for a moment before he remembered. He stopped stroking. That’s right; Charles wanted to come on his face. He felt his stomach twist as he leaned back so that he was upright again. He realized Charles had asked him a question and tried to visualize both options—they both seemed equally unpleasant. 

He decided being on his knees was slightly less unpleasant and jerkily climbed off Charles and off the bed. He could run now; he could leave…

And not get paid. After he’d done this. Erik swallowed and knelt next to the bed. 

Charles climbed off after him, stroking himself and watching Erik. “You are so beautiful,” Charles breathed, standing in front of Erik. 

“Don’t,” Erik snapped. “Just—do it.”

He watched Charles jerking off in front of his face through eyes that were mostly slits, cringing already in anticipation. He was done trying to be appealing to Charles; he just wanted this over with. Waiting for it was agony. _I will never do this again,_ Erik promised himself, just as Charles’ breathing changed. 

Erik squeezed his eyes shut in the nick of time. Something warm and wet splattered across the bridge of his nose and liquid landed on both eyelids. The next pulse brought a blob of semen to his upper lip, which immediately started to slide down. He pressed his lips tightly together and breathed hard through his nose. It seemed to be only a few droplets after that; one landed on the left side of his forehead and one on the right side of his chin.

Erik was effectively blind. He tried not to panic. His gorge rose and he felt something like a sob trying to escape him but he repressed it. 

He couldn’t stop the trembling, though. When Charles touched his chin to try and lift it, Erik jerked violently away. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Towel?” he said, his voice cracking.

“Oh, of course…” Erik heard Charles moving away and then coming back. He considerately put the towel in Erik’s hand instead of on his face; that would have been more intimacy than Erik could have taken in that moment. 

Erik put his face in the towel and wished he was alone, somewhere else, someplace he didn’t have to do things he didn’t want to. He felt a dangerous lump in his throat and fought it down. Once he had wiped his eyes sufficiently, he stood up, opened his eyes and found Charles. “Money,” he said bluntly. 

Charles’ face flashed disappointment for a moment, but it smoothed into a blandly pleasant expression after a moment. “Of course,” he said. He walked over to the desk on the room and pulled out two hundred-dollar bills, then walked it over to Erik. 

Erik, didn’t have anywhere to put the money, of course, being naked, but he felt a lot better having it in his hand. It made him feel a little better for what he had just experienced; at least it had been done for a reason. He looked toward the door, outside of which he’d left his small pile of filthy clothes. He wasn’t looking forward to putting them on, but he was hardly going to remain naked. He needed to get out of here. Fuck having a place to sleep; he needed his freedom.

Charles was looking at him assessingly. “When was the last time you ate?” he asked. 

The mention of food caught Erik by surprise. He thought about what Charles asked and realized he couldn’t remember. He’d talked a middle-aged woman into buying him a fast-food breakfast sandwich—had it been the day before? He shook his head instead of answering.

“Right,” Charles said briskly. “Since you’re staying, and I haven’t had dinner yet, we’ll eat together. My treat. Are you a vegetarian?”

The absurdity of the question caught Erik off-guard. “What?” 

“Just wanted to see if you had any dietary restrictions. Room service has a limited menu, I’m afraid.”

“Room service?” Erik repeated stupidly. 

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Did you think I was taking you out?” he asked carefully. 

Erik’s brain caught up. A meal; he was being offered a meal. And he was the one who had asked to stay; leaving seemed foolish, the more he thought about it. It wasn’t like Charles was a danger to him; Charles wasn’t going to overpower him. In fact, Erik was pretty sure he would win in a fight if it came down to that. 

“I’m allergic to peanuts,” he said after a moment. He saw the robe he had dropped on the floor and picked it up and shrugged into it. “Anything else—is fine. Great, in fact.”

“Excellent.” Charles picked up the phone next to the bed and started talking to the concierge while Erik went back into the living room area. There was a television, opposite one of the couches; Erik could...watch TV. While sitting on a couch. The idea of it was both decadent and boringly normal, simultaneously, and the cognitive dissonance made Erik choke out a laugh. 

Charles came out of the bedroom a few minutes later, Erik was watching an episode of Futurama that he vaguely remembered from childhood. His money was tucked under his thigh (along with the other hundred he’d retrieved from his jeans’ pocket.) He wanted the money as close to him as possible.

“We’re both having steak and salad with mashed potatoes,” Charles announced, sitting down next to Erik on the couch, a little closer than Erik would have liked. 

Erik’s mouth started watering. “That sounds great,” he admitted. 

“May I ask you something?”

Erik shot a glance at Charles, who was looking at him curiously. “Yes?”

“Why did you do this?”

Erik frowned and looked away. “Seemed like the best option I had,” he said after a moment. 

“Where do you normally sleep?”

Erik scrubbed his hand down his face. “Charles. I appreciate your curiosity, and it’s not that I want to keep anything from you, but—”

Charles held his hands up. “Sorry, sorry; I’m prying. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Thank you.” Erik was having trouble following the plot of the show after that, though. He was asking himself basically the same thing that Charles had asked him: How had his life gotten so desperate that his best option was to have sex with another man for money?

The thought wouldn’t leave Erik even after their food arrived and he ate everything that was offered to him. He noticed Charles sending his clothes to be washed and didn’t even think to thank him. Charles was kind, Erik thought, as he lay on the couch that night after dinner chasing sleep. He was far kinder than he needed to be, in fact; perhaps he was a bit infatuated with Erik. It was too bad that Erik couldn’t feel the same way about him.


	2. Morning

Erik’s plan, before he’d fallen asleep, had been to wake up at the crack of dawn and sneak out. 

He woke up at dawn, exhausted still but on schedule—then remembered that his clothes were still being laundered. So he sighed and went back to sleep.

The next time he woke up, it was obviously several hours later; bright sunlight was streaming into the living room and the smell of coffee filled the air. Erik grunted and looked in the direction he guessed the coffee smell was coming from, the kitchenette. Charles was there, seated at the small table in the breakfast nook, wearing glasses and perusing an iPad. He looked over at Erik as though he sensed he was being watched. “Good morning,” he said, with a tentative smile. 

Erik grunted and flipped the covers over to cover his face. “What time is it?” he mumbled.

“Why, do you have somewhere to be?” There was a light humor in Charles’ voice. Erik turned the covers down again and just looked at Charles. 

Charles seemed to belatedly realize how insensitive his words sounded and the tips of his ears reddened. “Sorry. Um, it’s about half-past nine.”

“Are my clothes here?” Erik asked. He had slept in the robe. 

“Yes, right here, freshly washed and pressed,” Charles said. “There’s also coffee, and I ordered a side of waffles that I wasn’t able to eat after all, if you would like them.”

More generosity. Erik didn’t like feeling obligated to someone who he already knew would be happy to be repaid in flesh. He sat up and pushed the blanket off, keeping his robe wrapped tightly around him. “I’ll just take the clothes, thanks.” He stood up and walked towards the door, where neatly folded clothes were stacked in a opaque plastic bag. They had even done something to his leather jacket to make it smell better, he noticed as he picked it up.

“But the waffles are just going to be thrown away,” Charles said, seeming far too invested in the fate of the waffles for Erik to believe that was his only concern. 

“I’m not going to blow you for waffles,” Erik said bluntly. 

Charles’ jaw snapped shut. He stared at Erik, his cheeks reddening in what looked more like anger than embarrassment. He looked down for a moment and shook his head before meeting Erik’s gaze again. “If I’m propositioning you, you will know it,” he said flatly. “What kind of person would I be to throw out food when there is a hungry man in front of me?”

Erik was going to protest, but his stomach made a loud noise at that moment. It wasn’t even hunger, probably; more a reaction to the heavy meal he’d had the night before, but Charles’ mouth twitched and Erik couldn’t help but chuckle ruefully. 

“I’m sorry,” Erik said. “Yes, thank you, I would like waffles and coffee.”

“Oh, well, we haven’t negotiated the coffee yet,” Charles joked with a smirk, then grimaced. “Sorry...too soon?”

“I’ll let it slide,” Erik said, shaking his head. Charles was a strange combination of self-possessed and awkward, and it was hard not to like him. “I’m just going to use the restroom.”

Charles smiled and nodded, his attention going back to his tablet. Erik debated taking another shower; it seemed sinfully decadent after having just had one the day before, but at least he could, here. He decided a quick one wouldn’t hurt anything, and he had few enough comforts in his life at the moment. 

He put on the clean clothes after a quick shower and left the restroom, thinking about waffles and wondering if the cash he’d gotten from Charles was enough to get his car out of the impound lot. He stopped when he saw Charles standing in the doorway of the bedroom, blocking Erik’s path to the kitchen. 

“Erik,” Charles said softly. “I’d like to proposition you.”

Anger spiked in Erik. “Keep your fucking waffles,” he snarled, pushing Charles out of his way and heading towards the door. 

“No, I—” Charles protested, but Erik was done. His hand was on the doorknob when Charles spoke again, in a loud voice.

“One hundred dollars if you will let me suck your dick.”

Erik paused, his back to Charles. He was still angry, but he was also a survivor. Another hundred. That would make four hundred in total, which had to be enough to get his car back. 

“I told you I would be very clear if I was propositioning you,” Charles said behind him. 

Erik turned around and looked at Charles. He noticed for the first time that morning that the stubble he’d observed on Charles’ face the day before was completely gone. _He must have shaved this morning,_ Erik thought. 

“The waffles and coffee are your regardless,” Charles said earnestly. “I just want—” his eyes trailed down Erik’s body and he licked his lips. 

“What can you possibly get out that?” Erik asked. “I’m still straight, you know. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to…” he waved his hand in the direction of his genitals to indicate he didn’t know if he could get an erection, but even as he did, he realized it was a lie. He was well fed and well-rested, and it had been long enough that he’d had sex, and Charles was clean-shaven...yes, he thought he probably could get an erection and ejaculate, if Charles had any skill at the act at all.

“Surely you understand the inherent pleasure in bringing about another person’s orgasm,” Charles said in a low voice. His lips were parted and his eyes looked darker than usual. 

“So you want to make me come,” Erik said evenly, watching Charles’ face. Charles’ eyes widened slightly and he nodded. He shifted his stance to accommodate what was obviously a burgeoning erection in his own pants. 

Erik was aware he was flirting. Even though he wasn’t attracted to Charles, he found himself enjoying having that little bit of power over the man. He was practically panting after Erik, begging to suck _Erik’s_ dick. 

Erik took a step closer to Charles. “Are you good at it?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, his voice pitched low, watching Charles’s face. 

Charles smiled. “My oral sex technique has been complemented by porn stars,” he said with a smirk. His smile started to fade as the expression on his face became more serious. “I’m going to make you forget you’re straight.”

Erik raised his eyebrows incredulously and snorted. “Well, I have to admit, you are selling it well.” He stood and looked at Charles for a moment, wondering if he had the nerve to do what had just crossed his mind. He walked closer to Charles and touched his fingers to Charles’ cheek.

Charles flinched slightly, before realizing Erik wasn’t seeking to harm him. Erik stroked his hand along Charles’ jaw. “You shaved,” he said softly.

Charles nodded, with a slight tremor. “I thought you might appreciate it,” he said equally softly. “That is, if you accept my offer.”

Erik didn’t say anything for a moment while he slowly dragged his index finger across Charles’ lower lip. They were nice lips. If they had been on a woman, Erik would have already kissed them. “How about $200?” he asked in a velvet voice. 

Charles blinked several times. “I don’t have that much cash left,” he admitted. “One hundred is all I have.”

Erik pushed down his annoyance. The whole flirting bit, wasted. “Okay,” he said, abruptly dropping his hand. “But I want to finish on _your_ face.” 

Where had that come from?

Charles’ eyes were wide and he inhaled in surprise. “Yes, of course, that’s—fine. Great, in fact.”

Erik inclined his head and then pushed past him to the bedroom. He flopped on the bed with a sigh. “Go on, then.”

A brief frown crossed Charles’ face but it disappeared quickly. He straddled Erik and unbuttoned and then unzipped his jeans. “Will you get naked again?” Charles asked, lifting his face to Erik’s

The poor guy looked smitten. Erik wondered how far he could push it. “No,” he said bluntly. “You can if you want to, I don’t really care. But my clothes are staying on.”

“Alright,” Charles said. He seemed a little annoyed, but trying to hide it. “I don’t have any condoms,” he said. “But we didn’t negotiate that, either, so…”

“That’s fine,” Erik said. He thought about what diseases he could get from someone’s mouth. Herpes was all he came up with, and Charles didn’t look like he had any sores. “I don’t like getting head with a condom, anyway.”

Charles smiled and tugged his pants and boxers down more roughly than Erik had anticipated. He grunted in surprise, but allowed Charles to expose him. Charles wisely didn’t waste time being coy, but swirled his tongue around the head of Erik’s soft cock immediately before sucking it into his mouth. Erik gasped at the sensation. He realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d jerked off...a few weeks ago, maybe? In Armando’s shower? He’d been too wrapped up in surviving since then to worry about it. 

His penis was rapidly growing erect even though there was a voice in the back of Erik’s head saying ‘this is a man sucking your dick,’ Charles hadn’t been lying about his skill at blowjobs. Erik groaned and tipped his head back. It felt amazing. Not only was Charles very good with his mouth, but his obvious enthusiasm for what he was doing was new to Erik. He’d received oral sex from women before, but not from anyone who really seemed like they liked it as much as Charles clearly did. 

In fact, Erik found himself approaching orgasm almost embarrassingly quickly. He opened his eyes and looked down. Charles wasn’t looking at him, which was good. He thought maybe looking at Charles would be a turn-off, but he didn’t feel disgust or repulsion. There was something hot about it; something that resonated deep inside him; something he wasn’t entirely able to be comfortable with. 

It didn’t seem to slow down the onset of his climax, either. “Soon,” he rasped. 

Charles lifted his head, absently wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You don't need to warn me,” he said. 

“I want…” Erik realized what he wanted. A curl of actual arousal started in his belly, not just arousal because he was being stimulated, but the idea of something that actually turned him on. “I want you on your knees,” he said roughly. 

Charles eyes widened. “Really? Oh—yes, of course!”

Erik pushed Charles aside and rolled off the bed. Charles scrambled to kneel in front of him. Erik pushed down his pants and underwear until they were around his ankles; no sense in getting them wet. 

Charles sucked Erik’s cock back into his mouth. Erik almost staggered back until he put his hands on Charles’ head. Charles moaned his approval around Erik’s cock. 

Charles’ hair was soft. Erik moved his hands to the back of Charles’ head and closed each fist on handfuls of hair. Keeping Charles’ head in place, he started rocking his cock in an out of Charles’ mouth. 

Charles seemed, if anything, even more excited than he had on the bed. He certainly wasn’t objecting to having his head movement restrained. 

Erik wondered how much Charles would let him get away with. 

He started fucking Charles’ face faster, and harder, still gripping the hair at the back of Charles’ head. He was looking down, fascinated by how Charles could be so excited by something that _had_ to be uncomfortable. He rammed his cock as far in Charles’ mouth as it would go, which was not quite all the way. He held Charles’ head close against him so his nose was brushing Erik’s lower abdomen. He noticed how red Charles was turning, and how the veins in his neck bulged as he tried to take Erik’s cock as deep as his throat would allow. 

Erik felt Charles’s throat start to convulse. “That’s it, choke on my fucking cock,” he whispered. “This is what you wanted, right? You wanted to choke on my cock?”

Charles took it for another ten seconds or so before he desperately tapped Erik on the leg and Erik immediately let go of his head. But Charles only pulled off long enough to gasp a breath and then he engulfed Erik's cock with his mouth again. 

“You fucking love it,” Erik said in amazement. He’d seen similar blowjobs in pornography, but he’d never been with a woman in real life who would have tolerated that kind of intense face-fucking.

Charles made a sound of agreement, slurping eagerly at his cock. He took Erik in deep and Erik realized he was about to come. 

He pulled out and started stroking his cock, looking at Charles’ red face below him. He remembered how being in Charles’ position the night before had made him feel, and for some reason the idea of putting Charles in that position is what pushed Erik over the brink. _At least he’s pretty, for a man,_ Erik thought, right before he spurted onto Charles’ upturned visage. 

Charles’ face was screwed up as Erik’s cock continued to shoot semen all over it. Erik felt a primal satisfaction at doing this to Charles, although Charles seemed a lot less disturbed by it than Erik had been. The ejaculate had mostly landed on the right side of Charles’ face, but he seemed to have the same blindness problem that Erik had had the day before. 

Erik reached down to pull up his pants. He thought about just walking out, because now that this was done he found that a part of himself was horrified and ashamed and wanted to get away immediately, but he hadn’t gotten the money yet. Also...he should probably get Charles a towel. Charles had gotten one for him, the day before. 

Erik went to the bathroom and grabbed a hand towel, then came back into the bedroom. “Here,” he said gruffly, shoving it into Charles’ hand. 

“Thank you,” Charles said, his voice a little hoarse. He wiped off his face and then unsteadily stood (Erik didn’t help him, although the idea did cross his mind to do so). 

“I’ll be eating those waffles now,” Erik said, leaving the bedroom to go into the living room area.

Erik had finished the first waffle and had started on the second by the time Charles had washed his face and come out to hand him a one hundred dollar bill. 

“Thanks,” Erik said, around a mouthful of waffle. He chased it with some good but lukewarm coffee. 

Charles sat down opposite him at the small table, just watching. 

Erik tolerated that for about thirty seconds before he got annoyed. “What?” he snapped. 

Charles jolted in surprise. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to...I just wanted to know…” he trailed off, clearly not sure how to say what he wanted to ask. 

Erik sighed. He’d told the story many times in recent months, and it seemed like he always had another indignity to tack on to the end of it. 

Now, that was more true than ever. 

“I got laid off,” he said brusquely. “A few months back. I had to give up my apartment, and I slept on a friend’s couch until he let me know I had overstayed my welcome.” Erik paused. That had been such a horrible conversation; he didn’t like to remember it. “So then I lived in my car for a few weeks, until it got ticketed for expired registration, several times, and I couldn’t pay the tickets, so eventually it got impounded. That was a few days ago.” He looked at Charles. “No great tragedy. Just a run of bad luck.”

He couldn’t deal with the immensely sympathetic and sorrowful look on Charles’ face, so he looked away. 

“What do you do?” Charles asked. “For work, I mean.”

“I am—I was—an auto mechanic.”

“Surely there are other shops that are hiring?”

Erik stood up, suddenly annoyed. “Oh, hey, I didn’t think of that,” he said sarcastically. “Look, I didn’t ask for advice. Thanks for...breakfast. And...well, whatever.”

He didn’t look at back Charles’s face to see his reaction as he left the hotel room.


	3. Ow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters in, I realized this was set in the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles. :)

“Why do you care if I have insurance?” Erik snapped at the clerk behind the scratched plexiglass barrier in the booth at the impound lot. The man had dirty blonde hair and was wearing a crooked nametag that said “Vic.”

“Me, I don’t care, but my boss…” Vic shrugged. “Well, he probably doesn’t care, either. But that’s still the way it is, man.”

Erik stared at the clerk, breathing hard, trying to think. When Erik had first arrived and shown his identification to claim his car (fortunately his driver's license was still valid and unexpired), Vic told him the fees due for the impound: $289. Since Erik had $400 cash he was relieved for only a moment until Vic had explained that he couldn’t accept cash. That was annoying, but not an insurmountable problem; Erik could walk to a bank and buy a money order. Then the man had mentioned, almost casually, that Erik would need to have a current registration and proof of insurance. 

“Honestly, man, insurance isn’t even your biggest problem,” Vic said, his eyes drifting away from Erik and to his mobile phone as he spoke. “You can’t bring the registration current until you pay off these tickets. How many parking tickets did you get, anyway?”

Erik’s stomach sank. “Three or four, I think.”

Vic gave him a look with just enough sympathy to be polite. “Those’ll have additional late fees on them, too. Probably upwards of $500 in total, at this point.”

Erik refrained from punching the plexiglass by the narrowest of margins. “Great.”

Vic eyed him cautiously for a moment—apparently Erik’s near-loss of his temper had not escaped his notice. “It’s probably cheaper to let this one go and buy a new car.”

Erik scoffed, but it wasn’t the worst advice he’d ever heard. After all, he had the skills to keep even old junkers running. “Yeah. Okay. You got any for sale?”

Vic shook his head. “We have an auction every Sunday, though. Might come back then.”

Erik nodded wearily, then snapped his head up to look at Vic suspiciously. “Will you be auctioning my car this Sunday?”

Vic grinned. “Nah. It’ll probably be a month or so before they do that. Gotta accumulate some more fees first.”

Erik huffed impatiently. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Vic shrugged. “That’s the way it is, pal. Hey, I’m gonna take a lunch, so I’m gonna need you to clear out, okay?” 

Erik could take the hint, if somewhat bitterly. He walked out of the small office and into the sun. Two men were standing about twenty feet to his right. They were talking to each other but kept turning to look at him. They looked lean and dirty. 

Erik started to walk a few feet in the other direction, but realized he didn’t have a destination. He didn’t have a home, or work, or even a car to go to. He stopped walking. He just needed to kill some time until Sunday. 

Which was four days later. 

Erik sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. So either he slept on the street for four nights, or he paid for a place to sleep. There were a lot of cheap hotels on Sepulveda, where the prostitutes tended to congregate—

Erik’s train of thought was halted by that idea. _I’m technically a prostitute now,_ he thought. It didn’t make him feel anything but weary, though. He had done what made sense at the time; it didn’t change who he was. 

Erik focused on what he needed next, walking slowly towards Sepulveda, because that was the only impetus he had. Someplace to sleep that night, sure. More money, if possible. He thought about stealing...if he got caught, well, at least he would spend the night in jail. 

The prospect was less appealing than having sex with Charles again. 

Erik frowned and forced himself to think practically. There were day laborers outside of the Home Depot on Sepulveda, most days. They did manual labor for cash. Erik wasn’t afraid of hard work; it made sense to at least go there and try and get some work before nightfall. 

Plan in place, Erik lifted his head and walked with more purpose. 

The wrench across the back of his head caught him completely by surprise. 

**

When Erik became aware again, he was on his back and his head was killing him. He stared up, confused, at a familiar face. He couldn’t remember how he knew the face, though. 

The man said something, frowning down at Erik, but the sounds didn’t make sense to him. Another voice spoke, more nonsensical sounds, and Erik snapped his head toward that speaker—another familiar face, but not one he could connect a name to. 

His head hurt like hell. 

He reached up to touch the part of his head that hurt and his hand came away bloody. 

“...Nothing to do with me,” one of the men said. Erik recognized words for the first time since he’d awoken. Wincing, he angled his head to look at the speaker. 

“Then leave,” the other man said, his voice accented and chilly. “If you’re just here to make excuses.”

It was the first man speaking again, the first face he’d seen when he woke up. Erik watched as he raised a mobile phone up to his ear and walked a few feet away from Erik to speak on the phone. The second man walked away, muttering something Erik couldn’t quite make out. 

Erik abruptly realized who the man on the phone was talking to. “No,” he said loudly. 

The man turned to look at him in surprise, putting his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “What?”

“No ambulance,” Erik said. “Can’t pay.” He suddenly remembered that he did have some money, and reached into his pocket quickly to determine if it was still there and cursed loudly when he found nothing. The cursing hurt his head and he cursed again. 

“Quickly, please, thank you,” the man said into his phone. He knelt by Erik. “Don’t worry about the cost.”

A name slithered into Erik’s mind. “Charles,” he said. “You’re Charles.”

The man smiled slightly, though his brow was creased with concern, and nodded. “That’s right. How does your head feel?”

“Like shit. What happened?” Erik struggled to sit up, but the man put a hand on his chest to keep him down. Erik pushed it away but remained lying down when a delayed wave of pain hit him. Maybe he should wait a few minutes to get up.

“It looks like someone hit you,” Charles said. “I’m guessing to rob you?” He was looking down at Erik, concern etched on his features. 

Erik didn’t respond. He closed his eyes and tried to will the pain in his head away. He felt himself drifting away, even as Charles kept talking, sounded more and more anxious, saying words that didn’t make sense to Erik.

\--

A soft beeping was the next thing Erik was aware of. He opened his eyes to what was obviously a hospital room. The room was devoid of all light except for the glow of the machine on the white cart next to him from which the beeping noise was coming. 

He reached back to touch the dull throbbing pain from the back of his head and found it bandaged. “Fuck,” he rasped and suddenly became aware of how dry his mouth was. 

“Erik?” 

Someone in the dark corner of the room moved, and Erik realized that it was a man slumped in a chair, who was now struggling to sit up. “Are you awake?” the man said, hiding a yawn in his fist. 

“Water,” Erik croaked. 

Charles quickly came over to him and handed him the small white cup which was on a table next to Erik’s hospital bed. Erik drank the water, then looked at Charles warily for a moment. “Why?” he asked. He wasn’t articulating his thoughts well, but that word was at the front of everything he could have said.

Charles fidgeted and shifted his weight. “You needed help,” he finally said. 

“But...how did you know that? Why did you...show up?”

Charles bit his lip, then walked back over to the chair he’d been sitting in. His face was in shadow now, invisible to Erik. He sat back down with a heavy sigh. “Don’t worry about that right now.”

“Are you stalking me?”

Charles huffed impatiently. “That’s ridiculous. You mentioned wanting to get your car out of an impound lot, and I just—”

 _“Why?”_ Erik said, loud enough that his head throbbed in protest. 

“I thought...I mean…” Erik heard Charles shifting in his chair. “I just wanted to give you another...proposition.”

Erik looked into the dark corner incredulously for a moment until he abruptly snorted. “Right. Of course you did. But how…” Erik rubbed his forehead. The pain in the back of his head seemed to be getting worse. “Nevermind. What’s wrong with my head?”

“You had a rather bad concussion,” Charles said. “Apparently it was bad enough that there was some swelling in your brain, which is why you were having trouble staying conscious.”

Erik frowned as he tried to wrap his head around that.

“You’re going to be fine, though,” Charles hastened to reassure him. “The medicine is working. Just take it easy for a few weeks, plenty of rest, and you’ll be--”

“I’m homeless,” Erik said flatly. He lifted his head and addressed the darkness in the corner. “Rest isn’t likely.”

“Well.” Charles spoke the word and then paused, resuming softly, with a slightly teasing tone. “You haven’t heard my proposition.”

Erik managed to choke out a bitter cough. “You'll forgive me if I don’t feel up to _fucking!_ ” The sentence started in a normal tone of voice but ended as a yell. He winced as pain shot through his head. He winced and waited in agony for it to pass.

A plump nurse bustled into the room. “Okay, okay, you’re about due for another painkiller,” she said, as if yelling was something she heard all the time. For all Erik knew, she did. She shook a couple pills out of a bottle in her pocket and handed them to him, then refilled the little white glass from the sink in the corner and handed that to him as well. 

Erik took the pills with only the slightest bit of hesitation. He didn’t fear for his health or safety; there was just a part of his mind trying to calculate the street value of what he was consuming in case it would be better for him to save and sell the pills. But his thoughts were wispy and hard to keep in line and after a moment he just swallowed the pills. 

The nurse left, muttering about something being not her job. 

Erik closed his eyes and put his head back, waiting for sleep to come. 

“Erik,” Charles said softly from the corner. “That—that is your real name, right?” 

Erik sighed and didn’t reply, keeping his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry,” Charles continued earnestly. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Obviously I don’t expect...well. Not now. I just…” Erik heard Charles sigh heavily. “When I first saw you, Erik...I felt...I think...I felt a connection. I can’t describe it. I just felt...drawn to you.”

 _Insane,_ Erik thought. He opened his eyes and looked in Charles’ direction, but didn’t otherwise move. 

Charles fidgeted, running his hands down his legs. “I know you’re straight. I’m not stupid, or naive. But…” he gestured helplessly towards Erik with one hand. “How can I not help you, when I find you wounded and robbed? I’m not capable…” he shook his head, as if he was refusing to complete the sentence. 

“No,” Erik said, frowning. Something Charles had said didn’t make sense. “No, that’s not right...you said...you were looking for me. You said you had a proposition. Before you knew I was hurt.”

Charles was silent for a long moment before he spoke again. “I know you need a place to live,” he said after a moment, quietly. “And I would very much like to...enjoy you, again. More. I thought perhaps we could work something out.”

Erik ignored the way his stomach leaped unpleasantly at Charles’ use of the word ‘enjoy’ “So you…” Erik frowned. “You want to, what, rent an apartment for me?”

“No, I was actually...I want you to come live with me.”

“Live with you?” Erik’s mind blanked for a moment. “But I can’t...even if I—I don’t have a passport, and I—”

“I live in New York,” Charles interrupted. “Where did you think I lived?”

“Oh, your accent...I thought Britain, I guess.”

Charles chuckled. “Right, of course. I get that a lot. No, I live in Manhattan, in a very luxurious two-level penthouse.”

New York was a long way from Los Angeles, but Erik had been to New York, many years before. And a change of scene would be good for him. Except…

Except, he would he expected to have sex with Charles. 

“You’ll have your own room,” Charles said urgently, as if he sensed that Erik was considering it. “You can come and go as you please...you’ll just be my...flatmate, as far as anyone else is concerned.”

“I’m _straight,_ ” Erik said. “It doesn’t bother you, the idea of having sex with someone who doesn’t like it?”

Charles made a sound between a scoff and a chuckle. “You liked it a little,” he said in a slightly petulant voice. 

Erik didn’t respond. He _had_ liked it...a little. At least, he liked what they had done that morning. He could do that again...but surely Charles wouldn’t be satisfied with just sucking Erik’s dick?

He tried to picture himself bending over and taking Charles’s cock in his ass; it did not seem even remotely appealing. And the idea of him doing that to Charles might be possible, but he would probably have trouble staying erect. 

“I don’t think I can do what you’re asking,” Erik said slowly. But then his mind went to his situation. Homeless, injured. He knew the hospital would put him out on the street the second they realized they would not be getting paid for treating him. Los Angeles hospitals were notorious for that.

Perhaps he could apply for temporary disability? But he would have to figure that out, get to a library to use a computer to pull up the forms, all without a car…it was possible. But was it preferable?

“I would only want you to do the things you want to do,” Charles said earnestly, as if sensing his advantage. “I mean, I would love if you wanted to fuck me, or let me fuck you. But if you never ask me for that, we’ll never do it.”

Erik stared at Charles in amazement. “What if I don’t want to do any of it?”

Charles looked back at Erik steadily, not responding, pursing his lips slightly. There was a steel there, Erik realized. Charles was generous, but he wasn’t a fool. Charles looked down for a moment, then raised his head and licked his lips. “Are you seriously going to say no if I offer to suck you off every morning?”

Erik had a sudden memory of what it was like to fuck Charles’ face; he saw Charles’ flushed and sweaty face, the veins bulging on his neck as he tried to accommodate the brutal assault Erik was giving his mouth. “Some mornings I will,” he said grudgingly.

He wasn’t expecting the happy bark of laughter from Charles. “Not every morning, then,” he agreed, his smile softening. “I will make sure you have all the food you want, including personal care products. Are there any things of your we should pick-up to take with us?”

Erik shook his head mutely. He’d had a storage unit, until he couldn’t pay the bill and they auctioned off the contents; his car had been impounded; even the backpack he’d kept his toothbrush and water bottle in, amongst other things, had been stolen from him whilst he’d been napping in the park recently. All he had were the clothes on his back. 

Speaking of...Erik looked anxiously around for a moment until he spied his leather jacket, neatly folded on the counter. He relaxed. Of the few possessions he had left, that was the one that had the most value to him. He stared at it for a moment. His head hurt less now—clearly the drugs were kicking in—but they also made his thoughts mushy and soft with frayed boundaries. He preferred to think in right angles; in an organized, linear progression, but the thoughts kept running away from him. 

“And I can leave, anytime I want,” Erik said abruptly, turning his head back to face Charles. He knew it was technically a question, but he said it like a statement. 

Charles nodded, his eyebrows up and wide; the very picture of sincerity. He seemed to be looking for words, and finally settled on, “Have you ever flown first class?”


	4. New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to redact Erik's injury a smidge. He never got the "drill a hole in skull" surgery; instead he just has a bad concussion. Sorry!

Once Erik made the decision to go with Charles, he felt lighter, almost giddy.

Of course, that could have been the drugs kicking in. 

He was vaguely aware that Charles left the room for a bit, and then Charles and the nurse were helping him into a wheelchair. 

“I’m not gay,” Erik told the nurse, craning his neck to look at her face around her large bosom as she pushed him down the hall behind Charles. 

“Good for you, honey,” she replied absentmindedly as she wheeled him into the elevator. 

Things got blurrier after that. There was a car, and then Erik was in it, and Charles was driving and talking on his phone at the same time. 

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Erik mumbled, the sentence intended to be part of an earlier conversation, but which had somehow gotten lodged in his brain. 

“What’s that?” Charles said, giving Erik a concerned look. Erik realized that he maybe hadn’t said the words very clearly, but when he tried to repeat himself, he immediately forgot what he had been trying to say. 

“Is it...drugs or the...injury,” he finally managed to say after what felt like many minutes had passed. It was an important question, he knew that. 

“Is what, Erik?” Charles asked, sparing another concerned glance for Erik. Erik again forgot what he had been trying to communicate. 

The world was a blur for a bit, until Erik saw something he recognized. “We’re at the airport,” he said, frowning. “Is it...I’m not...how…” Erik huffed in frustration and finally just pointed at the bandage wrapped around his head. 

Charles bit his lip, looking contemplatively at Erik. “I’m sure it will be fine,” he said, although the wrinkling of his forehead told a different story. 

Charles helped Erik out of the car. Once inside the airport, they approached a desk and Erik stared at a piece of graffiti on the wall that said “LAX SUX” while Charles exchanged sterner and sterner words with different people in uniform until finally everyone had smiles again and a smiling girl brought Erik a wheelchair. 

“I can _walk_ ,” he said, petulantly, but Charles rubbed him on his shoulder and that felt nice even though for some reason it also made Erik feel uneasy. 

The wheelchair took the concern of remembering how to move his legs out of the picture, though, although he did have to get out of it at one point to walk through a metal detector. Erik found himself petting the side of the machine and whispering to it, which was not appreciated by the nearby people in uniforms. In fact, he had to wait for quite some time in his wheelchair while Charles spoke to people some more. He passed the time by pulling his lower lip out as far as he could. 

Then Charles was behind him again, pushing his wheelchair and chattering about things that Erik tried focus on. Charles was describing his home in New York, Erik finally realized, while the staff poured Erik into a roomy seat near the front of the plane, next to Charles. 

Erik was barely awake and he irritably shook off Charles’ hand where the other man seemed to be trying to squeeze it reassuringly. 

He half-dozed until take-off, when he woke briefly. He started to nod off again but the pain in his head started to get intense. “Owwww,” he moaned, unable to keep his pain to himself. 

“Erik? What’s wrong?” Charles was looking at him worriedly. 

“Head. Hurts,” Erik managed to say, but that was an understatement. He felt like his head was about to explode. 

Charles face was tight with concern. Erik lost touch with reality for a moment, then regained consciousness just enough to sip what Charles was offering him through a straw, though he coughed a bit when the familiar flavor hit the back of his mouth: whiskey?

Erik lost the ability to wonder about anything a few sips after that when he fell into a deep sleep. 

*****

Jazz music.

Erik noticed the sound first, a male singer crooning gently, _“They’re writing songs of love, but not for me…”_ The music wasn’t loud, but it was enough to pull Erik out of his slumber. 

The next thing he noticed was the softness of the thing he rested his head on: it smelled like fresh laundry, impossibly good. A blanket that felt like a cloud was on top of him. When he opened his eyes, his environment was dazzlingly bright, golden-washed. He wasn’t cold, or wet. His head was dully throbbing but his back was pain-free. 

After months of waking up from increasingly uncomfortable sleeping situations, the incredible luxury of waking up in a real bed with actual blankets made Erik seriously consider the possibility that he had died and had woken up in some version of heaven. 

He felt suffused with calm and peace for several minutes, listening to the music, until it came back to him. The plane, the hospital...Charles. 

An ugly jolt of reality interrupted Erik’s vague fantasy of being in heaven. He must be in Charles’ house. Because Charles had invited him here. To have sex with him. 

Erik screwed his eyes shut. Had he really dropped everything to fly across the country? With a head injury?

“Dropped what,” he said out loud. His voice was thick with sleep and echoed in the room in a way that hinted at hardwood floors. Suddenly curious about his surroundings, Erik sat up and immediately gasped at the pain in his head. He closed his eyes and most of it passed after a moment. He raised his hand to head gingerly and found that it was still bandaged; he must have been bleeding. He pressed gently at the lumpy spot that hurt the most and winced. 

He pushed the blanket off him. He was wearing his boxers and his T-shirt. Without moving his head too quickly, he scanned the room and saw his jeans folded on top of a white dresser a few feet away. He stepped out of bed and towards the light source, which was a huge window covered by white curtains. He pushed the curtains open and sucked in his breath as the reality really sank in...yup, that was New York. There were buildings as far as he could see. He tried to figure out where he was in the city based on old memories and landmarks and gave up after a moment. He’d find out soon enough. 

He turned to look at the rest of the room. There was an open door that led to a bathroom, and mirrored sliding doors that signified a closet. He walked over to the closet and slid the door open and was relieved to find his leather jacket hanging in there. The rest of the closet was empty. 

So he wasn’t sharing a room with Charles, then. He tried to remember if they’d talked about that but he couldn’t find the memory of it. 

It was clearly late afternoon or early evening considering the angle and color of the sun, and Erik suddenly realized that he was very hungry. He decided to go in search of food. He put his jeans on and left the room.

The first thing he saw was the living room, the floor below him. There was a railing that made the hallway outside ‘his’ room almost seem like a balcony. The furniture looked like it was right out of a magazine, impossibly elegant, in hues of cream and brown with burgundy accents. Multiple sliding glass doors led off the living room onto what Erik could see was a huge deck. And the room had an even more impressive view of the city than Erik’s room had. 

“Erik! You’re awake.”

Erik’s eyes snapped to the source of the words: Charles, sitting at a table near the kitchen, which was adjacent to the sprawling living room. He was looking up at Erik with an tablet in his hands, clearly beaming. 

Erik looked down at Charles for a moment. He was both happy to see a familiar face and also dreading where that face wanted to be on Erik. “Yes,” he agreed after a moment. He glanced around himself significantly. “Stairs?”

“At either of the hall you’re in,” Charles said, standing. He looked like an eager puppy. Erik shook his head and then winced at the sensation. 

“Oh, yes, that will still be hurting you for a few weeks,” Charles said, his voice suddenly overly solicitous. 

Erik ignored him and walked down the stairs. He headed towards the kitchen, passing the living room and several comfy-looking chairs, including a recliner, that had been just out of sight from the door to Erik’s room upstairs. Erik looked at the chairs and then at Charles, who was looking back at him with a confident pose that had just a touch of anxiety. Charles had been seated at one of the less-comfortable looking dining nook chairs, but it gave him a view of the door to Erik’s room. 

Erik brushed past Charles and sat in the seat opposite where Charles had been sitting. “I’m hungry,” he said bluntly. 

“Oh, of course, let me see what we have,” Charles said, immediately opening the door to the refrigerator. 

“Actually,” Erik said, as he thought things through (his brain seemed to be working more slowly than usual), “Can we talk about the terms of this arrangement first?”

Charles shut the refrigerator door and slowly came back over to the table. “Yes, of course,” he said, sitting down opposite Erik, where he had been seated before. “You...you don’t remember?”

“I remember you making a deal with someone who was concussed,” Erik said, feeling that he should feel more irritated about that. His feelings were mostly numb. Maybe that was a side effect of the concussion. 

Charles’ lips tightened at the comment. “Do you want to go back to Los Angeles?” he said in a deceptively pleasant tone, tilting his head slightly. “Because I could arrange that easily.”

“No, I--” Erik sighed and looked away from Charles. “I don’t know. I don’t remember everything. I’m sorry if I sounded...accusing.” Erik looked up at Charles. He made his voice gentler. “Can you remind me what we agreed? My memory is a little fuzzy.”

Charles visibly melted when Erik looked at him. “No, please, I’m sorry. I offered you room and board, your own room, and toiletries, of course.”

Erik nodded. “And in return?” 

Charles cleared his throat. “Well, I would hope that you want to, erm...have sex. Sometimes.”

Erik frowned. “That I would I want to? Did you think I hit my head so hard that I forgot I was straight?” 

Charles chuckled and shook his head. “No, I don’t think that. Erik--” Charles leaned across the table and grasped one of Erik’s hands. Erik stared at their clasped hands, his forehead still creased in a frown. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,” he said sincerely. 

Erik pulled his hand back, shaking his head and frowning harder. “I don’t want to have sex with you,” he said as nicely as he could. “I’m not saying I didn’t get any enjoyment out of what we did before, but I’m not truly going to want to, probably ever.”

Charles blinked and his smiled dimmed a bit. He leaned back in his chair. “Then we won’t,” he said simply. 

Erik eyed him speculatively for a moment. “And you’ll still let me stay here?”

Charles nodded. “I hope you’ll change your mind at some point, of course,” he said, the disappointment obvious in his tone. He sighed heavily. “But I won’t press you. I’ll wait for you to come to me.”

Erik gave him a disbelieving look. He didn’t believe that would last very long, but even if he was only here while he recovered from his concussion, he was still better off than he would be in Los Angeles. “Alright,” he said cautiously. “So, can I take you up on that ‘and board’ part of your offer?”

Charles smiled. “Do you like lasagna?” he asked. 

“Definitely,” Erik said fervently. He felt his mouth start to water.

“Good, because I have some ready to be baked,” Charles said, standing up and walking over to the refrigerator. He pulled out a foil-covered Pyrex pan. “It will take forty-five minutes or so to bake, of course.” He set the lasagna on the counter and punched some numbers into the digital keypad on the oven, then turned to face Erik, leaning backwards against the counter and running his tongue over his lips. “I wonder what we could do with forty-five minutes.”

The flirting was so blatant that Erik snorted. “I thought you were waiting for me to come to you,” he said, amused despite himself. 

“Well, everyone can use a little positive reinforcement,” Charles said briskly, going back over the to refrigerator. “Would you like a drink?”

Erik touched the bandage that was still on his head. He thought alcohol and brain injuries together might not be such a good idea, but he remembered having whiskey on the plane, too. “Am I supposed to be drinking?” he asked, touching his bandaged head significantly.

“Is anyone?” Charles asked rhetorically, not looking at Erik while he opened what was clearly a liquor cabinet.

Erik looked at Charles’ back as Charles stared into the liquor cabinet. He remembered how Charles had emphatically not been drinking that first night, in the hotel room. Erik touched the back of his head, the place from which a dull pain radiated. He couldn’t imagine that drinking with a head injury was good, and it couldn’t be comfortable for Charles to watch that if Charles was trying not to drink. “How about water?” Erik said after a moment.

Charles turned as if he was snapped out of a reverie. “What did you...oh. Water. Yes, of course, you should...stay hydrated.” He shut the cabinet firmly and the went to a glass for Erik from a dispenser on the refrigerator.

Erik turned around to look at the living room some more, when something on the other side of the room caught his eye. He stood up and walked over, curious. Charles had a beautiful chess set of obsidian and frosted glass pieces on a glass chessboard table. Erik picked up the white king. “Do you play?” he asked, glancing at Charles.

“I do,” Charles said with a smile, coming to the other side of the table and putting a finger on the black queen. “I enjoy it quite a lot, although I haven’t had anyone to play with for a while. Do you…?”

“I love it,” Erik said. He sat down at one of the chairs, gazing raptly at the set. “My mother taught me. It’s been a long time since I’ve played, though.”

“Well,” Charles said with a smirk, “I’ll go easy on you.” 

Erik raised his eyebrows at Charles as if to say, _really?_ but Charles’ smile just grew broader. 

“Not my absolute favorite way to pass 45 minutes,” Charles said in an affectedly casual tone as he sat down and started setting up the pieces. “But there are certainly worse ways.”


	5. Laundry

The next morning, Erik woke up with the jazz singer alarm clock again; this time it sounded like Mel Torme singing “That Old Black Magic.” He put his jeans on before going downstairs and wondered briefly how long he was going to have to get by with only one outfit. 

“Good morning,” Charles greeted him brightly. “There’s scrambled eggs and bacon, if you’re hungry.” 

Erik made an appreciative noise and served himself from the stove. He hesitated a moment before taking the bacon, but he figured his mother would forgive him. 

“Oh, I forgot to give you these yesterday,” Charles said when Erik sat down. Charles pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket. “Your medicine.”

Erik glanced at the pill bottle and put it on the table next to his plate. “Thanks. It’s hurting a lot less today.” He hadn’t liked the effect the pill had had on him in the hospital. He had showered the night before and had taken off the bandage, although there was still a big scab on the back of his head. 

Was Charles trying to drug him to take advantage of him? 

He shot a glance at Charles, who was reading something on his tablet, apparently oblivious to Erik. Erik watched him for a moment. He was wearing most of a suit. Erik wondered if he had a job. Or was he so rich that he didn’t need to work?

In any case, he didn’t seem particularly concerned with whether or not Erik took the drugs. 

“What do you do?” Erik asked after a few minutes. He had finished his food and shot a surreptitious glance at the stove.

Charles looked up at Erik. “Have as much as you want,” he said offhandedly. “But to answer your question, I’m a venture capitalist.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “Sexy.” 

Charles gave Erik a surprised, open-mouthed look. Erik felt his cheeks begin to heat up. He quickly stood and brought his plate back over to the stove to fill it up again. Was he flirting? What had possessed him to say that?

“It really is,” Charles said after a moment, with a chuckle. “I majored in biology, but when I saw how my stepfather squandered my mother’s inheritance, I resolved not to make the same mistake and to learn about investing, and finance, and how to assess the potential of an asset...I suppose venture capitalism is the natural outgrowth of that.”

Erik nodded as if what Charles said had any meaning to him. He understood the words, of course, but the idea of having so much money that one was actively looking for ways to risk it was foreign to Erik’s experience. 

“So you grew up rich,” Erik said. It was more of a statement than a question. 

Charles opened his mouth to speak and interrupted himself with a little embarrassed cough. “Yes,” he said after a moment. 

“So do you, well, go to work?” Erik asked. He was wondering if Charles trusted Erik enough to leave him alone in his home. 

“Sometimes,” Charles said evasively. “Today I need to do some shopping. Is there anything you would like in the way of particular foods, or toiletries?”

“I could use some new duds,” Erik said, sticking a finger through one of the holes just under the collar of his Iron Maiden T-shirt. 

Charles gave him an awkward smile. “That’s not, um, on the menu at the moment.” Charles put his tablet away, seeming suddenly uncomfortable. He walked to the far side of the kitchen and pulled something out of a drawer: a pencil and paper. He handed it to Erik. “Just write down anything you’re craving to eat, or any speciality products you use,” he said. 

Erik didn’t feel any compunction about asking for exactly the food he wanted, but his mind was blank as he stared at the page. He could not remember a single food he liked. After a moment he wrote down, “Orange juice,” and then after he thought a bit more he wrote “bagels.” When nothing else came to mind, he pushed the paper at Charles. “I guess whatever you want,” he said, frowning. He felt a little disturbed that he couldn’t think of more. 

Charles glanced at his list. “Oh, I know this deli that makes wonderful bagels,” Charles said enthusiastically. “I’ll get cream cheese and lox, too.”

“Sounds good,” Erik said honestly. 

Charles smiled at him. “See you in a bit, then. Feel free to look around. Oh—” Charles dug into his pocket and handed Erik a flat plastic card. 

A credit card? Erik looked at Charles is surprise. Did his generosity know no bounds?

“It’s a key,” Charles said. “It will get you into the building and the apartment.”

Oh. A key. Erik looked at the perfectly white and blank plastic rectangle. “Thank you,” he said.

“Of course,” Charles said warmly. “I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner here.”

“No, I—” Erik looked up at Charles and caught his eye for a moment. “I don’t,” Erik said honestly. 

Charles cocked his head and smiled broadly at Erik for a moment before he nodded. “Good,” he said. “See you soon.” 

**

Erik was more interested in exploring the apartment than the outside. After all, he’d just spent weeks being mostly outside.

He found two other bedrooms besides the one he was sleeping in, and one more door that was locked but he thought led to Charles’ bedroom. Fair enough for him to lock it, Erik thought; he had already displayed an astonishing (naive?) amount of trust in Erik. 

In the living room, Erik found a secret entertainment center by accident when he sat on a remote control; part of the wall slid back and revealed a huge flat screen TV. Erik flipped through a few channels, but soon turned it off so he could keep exploring. He went out on the large deck that wrapped around the living room, despite that it was fairly cold outside. The view was incredible. Also, the deck by itself was larger than anywhere Erik had ever lived. 

He went inside after a few minutes, though, driven in by the cold. He thought the fall weather would be bearable in his leather jacket, though, if he wanted to go out later. 

One of the last things he found was a laundry room. This made Erik realize that it had been a few days since he’d washed his clothes, and they might start to smell again soon. He had gone for a few weeks without washing them before Charles had had them laundered at his hotel in Los Angeles, but he was sure that he had smelled to other people. And there was no need to get to that point here. 

The laundry room had everything he needed to wash his clothes, but since he would have to hang out naked for a couple hours in order to do that, he decided to wait until Charles got back and ask if he could borrow a pair of sweatpants. 

He went back into the living room and just stood there for a moment. For one giddy moment he felt absolutely at a loss. For months, his every waking thought had been towards his needs: mostly where he would sleep and where his next meal was coming from, and when those were met it was how could he earn a few bucks, how could he find a place to shower; where could he park his car where it wouldn’t get towed. To not to have to worry about any of that was incredibly freeing but also disorienting. 

He started to feel almost like he was disassociating, having trouble keeping his thoughts in order. He went back out onto the cold deck and took a few deep breaths; that helped. He realized he did still have things he needed to get. He needed to get a job and be financially independent again, for one thing. To get a job he needed a resume, an address, and an outfit to wear to the job interview. Erik had been to the unemployment office in Los Angeles enough to know the formula. 

He had an address. He didn’t know what it was, at the moment, but he had one. He could prepare a resume if he had access to a computer and a printer. He was sure Charles had both of those things, but even if he didn’t, he could find them at a public library. Printing might cost a dollar or two. Erik figured he could scrape that together. He needed new clothes, too; he couldn't go to a job interview even for mechanic jobs in a torn Iron Maiden T-shirt and jeans. But he knew Charles saw that. 

After a few more deep breaths, and after he realized that his next priority had to be getting new clothing, Erik felt in control of himself and his life again. He couldn’t control every detail, of course, but he knew what direction he needed to move in. Once he got new clothes he could focus on the step after that. 

Erik went inside. Watching television seemed incredibly decadent, but Erik forced himself not to think of it that way and made himself comfortable on the couch. 

**

“Are you interested in lunch?”

The soft baritone voice roused Erik and he blinked at the earnest blue eyes gazing at him for a moment before he remembered the situation he was in. “Lunch?” He repeated blankly. Apparently he had fallen asleep on the couch. 

“I have bagels and lox,” Charles said, walking towards the kitchen. “Of course, you are welcome to keep sleeping if you’d rather.”

“No, no,” Erik said. He got up and followed Charles to the kitchen. “Bagels and lox sounds great.” Erik yawned and stretched as he walked. “Hey, can I borrow a pair of sweats or something later? I’d like to wash my clothes but I don’t have anything to wear.”

Charles, facing away from Erik at that moment, paused briefly before continuing to pull food out of the brown paper bag he was carrying. “I’m afraid my clothes won’t fit you,” he said in an even voice. 

“But I—” Erik frowned and looked at Charles. He didn’t have sweat pants? They were a similar size; surely Charles had something Erik could wear...

A sick feeling began to creep into Erik’s stomach. He stared at Charles’ back as the gears in his head turned. Charles didn’t want to lend him even a single piece of clothing. Charles had acted strangely when Erik had mentioned his clothing that morning. 

Charles started putting away the groceries without looking at Erik. “Did you go out?” he asked casually. “It’s colder than it was when I left, and that was only a few days ago! But fall always comes on quickly when it comes…” Charles continued chattering nervously, not looking at Erik, while Erik stared at him, feeling angrier and angrier as he realized what was happening. 

After a few minutes, Charles had prepared two plates, loaded with bagels and cream cheese and lox and other food that would have Erik’s mouth water if he wasn’t feeling sick to his stomach. He brought the plates to the table and turned to Erik with a smile. “I wasn’t sure if you liked capers or red onion, so I…” he trailed off upon seeing the look on Erik’s face. “What is it?”

“I don’t think I’m hungry after all,” Erik said coldly. “What I need is apparently...not on the menu.”

Charles inhaled slowly and looked him in the eye for a moment before he spoke. “I have offered to provide you food and shelter, at no cost or obligation,” he said evenly. “It’s a very generous--”

“I need _clothes_ ,” Erik interrupted. “Don’t tell me that escaped your attention. I didn’t bring any luggage with me.”

Charles licked his lips and looked away. “I’m sure something will occur to you,” he said in a quiet voice, then cleared his throat and spoke louder. “Surely you don’t need new clothes right this moment. Wouldn’t you like to have some lunch?”

Erik glared at Charles without responding. After a moment, he went upstairs and got his leather jacket out of the closet and then left the apartment, slamming the door behind him. 

**

There was an elevator, but Erik took the stairs down, relishing the chance to really move for the first time in days. His head was starting to hurt, but he ignored it, seething with resentment of Charles. _Bullshit, there’s no obligation to have sex with him,_ he thought. He also wished he’d been paying a little bit more attention to exactly what Charles had said when he’d first proposed this arrangement, because in retrospect...Charles hadn’t said anything about clothes. 

Erik reached the ground floor and burst out of doors. It was afternoon and the sun was high in the sky, but in the shade it was cool enough that Erik would have been very uncomfortable without his jacket. There were people out, walking briskly; nobody gave him anything but a cursory look. He stood there for a moment, not sure where to go, and finally just started walking the direction most people were walking. 

It was so different from Los Angeles. He wondered for a moment what it would be like to live on the streets in New York. There was supposed to be a large homeless population here, wasn’t there? That meant it was possible, at least, even though it would soon be getting colder…

Charles had promised him a flight back to LA, though, hadn’t he? Erik could just take him up on that. Not that he enjoyed living on the streets in Los Angeles...but the weather was better, at least. Although—perhaps he could actually find a job, in New York? He certainly hadn’t been having luck with that in Los Angeles. 

Erik passed a men’s clothing store that had a suit on display in the window, worn by a headless mannequin. He slowed to look at it. The suit was gray with a slight metallic glint; perhaps some threads were metal. It would be far over-the-top for a job interview to be a mechanic.

He noticed his own reflection, then, in the glass between himself and the sleek suit. His hair and beard were just a little too long to be deliberate. He could see several holes in his shirt and his jeans were ripped at the knees. He was thinner than looked good on him; he thought he looked like a homeless drug addict. He couldn’t even imagine what a suit that like would look like on him. 

He looked at the door of the store and contemplated going in. Surely the store had other clothing that would be more appropriate for a job interview. He couldn’t buy it, but maybe he could...steal it?

Erik ran a hand through his hair and shifted his weight in frustration. He’d never been a thief, but if that’s what it took to survive, maybe he should consider it. 

But if he got caught, he would be arrested. And surely Charles’ apartment was better accommodation than a jail, even considering...what Charles wanted from him. 

Charles didn’t want to hurt him; Charles wanted to have sex with him. Erik had known that when he’d come to New York. Even if Charles had been somewhat disingenuous in his methods, he hadn’t gone back on his word, and for some reason Erik felt that he could trust him to keep his word. 

There was a clerk in the store who had started frowning at him in concern through the glass, so Erik started moving again, walking aimlessly while his mind worked through everything. Maybe he could so something to earn a little bit of money, just enough to buy one new outfit. He could earn that in a couple days as a day laborer. So if he could find a Home Depot, he could try and find someone looking to hire a mover. 

His head pulsed with pain and he stopped walking for a moment while he waited for the worst of it to pass. He breathed through it and realized: he couldn’t do manual labor in the condition he was in. He might pass out and drop something. He could try, but…

But maybe it was easier to just give Charles what he wanted. 

Erik felt in his bones that if he had sex with Charles, clothing would magically be “on the menu.” And in order to be able to support himself again, to be able to get a job, and therefore his own place to live: first he needed clothing. 

Erik wandered around for a few more hours, trying to let his mind find another solution, but he kept coming back to the same conclusion: the easiest and best thing to do would be to have sex with Charles. It’s not like it was _that_ bad. And once he had clothes, he could apply for a job. 

**

It was night by the time Erik found Charles’ apartment again, as he had neglected to take note of the street name or number. But he did happen to find the men’s clothing store again, and that got him back to the Charles’ building. He took the elevator this time, anxiety twisting his stomach as he contemplated what he needed to do. 

He didn’t need clothing right away, he told himself. There was no need to rush this. He was still recovering from a head injury; in fact, he realized his head was hurting pretty badly in that moment. He thought for a moment that perhaps there was something he could or should do about that, but the idea slipped away from him. 

The white card admitted him to Charles’ apartment as easily as it had given him access of the rest of the building. His footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as he went in. The lights were dim and the apartment was completely silent. “Charles?” he asked. His voice bounced around the room. 

The view of the city lights from the living room over the deck was spectacular, and Erik walked closer in appreciation. He’d been gazing at it a while when he heard the front door opening behind him. 

“Erik,” Charles said. He sounded surprised and pleased. “You came back.”

Erik turned to look at Charles, who was just closing the front door behind him. He was wearing spandex shorts and a clingy tank top, and both were covered in sweat. The dark hair curling around his neck and ears was clearly wet with sweat as well. 

“I went to work out,” Charles said, sounding slightly embarrassed. “I was...I felt...well, I just wanted to...blow off some steam.”

“Understandable,” Erik said. His eyes caught on Charles’ bare shoulders. He had a flash of remembering Charles lying underneath him, seeing those same shoulders in a different context. 

“Right. Well, I’m going to, ah, shower,” Charles said awkwardly after a moment when Erik didn’t speak again. 

“Okay,” Erik said. He looked at Charles. He didn’t have anything to say, he realized. 

Charles walked up the stairs and Erik stared up after him. 

There's no hurry, he reminded himself. 

He should just go to bed. Yes, that’s what he should do. He was supposed to be getting rest with his head injury, anyway. 

Erik walked up the stairs and into his room. He hung up his jacket in the empty closet and stared at it for a moment, all alone in there. 

He should wait. There was no rush. 

Erik suddenly realized he had been standing and staring into the closet for a while, with no thoughts in his mind. There was something nagging at his consciousness; something he needed to do. 

Erik found himself walking out of his bedroom and down the hall to Charles’ room. The door was wide open, exactly the opposite of the closed and locked door Erik had encountered earlier that day. 

Charles was sitting up in his bed, reading. The lighting in the room appeared to be white Christmas lights, or something similar that provided a dim, diffuse light. He was shirtless, and his hair was damp, but it was clearly from the shower. Erik didn’t know how Charles had had time to shower, but he clearly had. His skin looked pink and clean. He looked up at Erik curiously. 

Erik just stood there, wanting Charles to say or do something to make this easier. But Charles had said Erik needed to come to him. Maybe that’s why he was just looking at Erik, lips wet and slightly parted, waiting. 

Erik took a few steps closer to Charles’ bed. “I don’t know how to do this,” Erik confessed, feeling raw and exposed. 

Something changed in Charles’ face, subtly. He blinked rapidly a few times. “Come here,” he said in a soft voice. He patted the bed next to him in the universal symbol of invitation. 

Erik approached the bed and sat next to Charles. His stomach was in knots and his head was pounding. He looked at Charles for a moment. Erik was not blind to that fact that Charles was an attractive man, and clean-shaven as he was now, he certainly seemed less...intimidating. His lips were too red to be real, and Erik let his eyes linger on them. Charles’ breathing changed and Erik realized what was going to happen, what had to happen, but he still hesitated and drew it out, wondering if Charles would close the distance between them or if he really would wait for Erik.

But Charles waited. His hands were tightly gripping the blankets on either side of him but he didn’t move towards Erik, breathing through parted lips. Erik leaned closer, still fighting with himself. Why? He had decided to do this. This was the hard part. Everything after this would come easily. 

_Or at least I hope so,_ Erik thought in response to his own mental innuendo.

Erik swallowed and leaned forward enough to close the distance to Charles’ lips. For a moment, time was suspended. His lips were pressed against Charles’, not hard, but not soft, just there. 

Then Charles made a sound, low in his throat, and he kissed Erik back. Erik was almost startled by the assertiveness of the kiss. It wasn’t like kissing a woman at all. Women were soft, and yielding, and Charles was…not that.

But Charles was definitely a good kisser. 

Erik had always liked kissing, more than some of his girlfriends, in fact. He couldn’t help but respond to what Charles was doing with his mouth; the dance-like aspect that is inherent in a good kiss. But if it was a dance, then Charles was leading, and that wouldn’t do at all. 

Erik pushed Charles down on his bed, kissing him more fiercely, even bumping teeth a couple times. Charles smelled good, he realized; it was confusing but it was also subtle and almost reassuring on some level. But more important than that, for some reason Erik needed to control this kiss; he needed to dominate the situation.

And Charles let him. Erik was half-lying on Charles, with the blanket between them, basically fucking Charles’ mouth with his tongue when he felt Charles’ erection under the blanket. He froze for a moment, pulling back. 

“Do you want a drink?” Charles asked him in a low voice, his eyes searching Erik’s face. 

Erik thought about it and slowly shook his head. He propped himself up on one hand and moved the other down and rested it on top on Charles’ blanket-covered cock, watching Charles’s face curiously. Charles sucked in his breath and his pupils widened visibly. 

The moment felt surreal for Erik. To be in such an intimate position with another man felt both odd and yet…Erik’s dick was getting hard. 

Erik roughly grasped Charles’ cock through the blanket. Charles made a sound like a growl and surged up to kiss Erik again, but Erik swerved to avoid it, instead watching Charles’ face for his reaction. 

Charles’ face was incredibly expressive. He seemed alternatively surprised, aroused, confused, anxious, and desperate. Erik rubbed Charles’ cock through the blanket. “Do you like that?” he asked in a harsh whisper. 

Charles surged up for a kiss again and this time Erik let him; a wet, tongue-filled kiss without finesse and filled with need. Erik kept rubbing Charles’ cock through the blanket, not sure what he was doing at all, but feeling that he was on the right track. 

Charles fell back to the bed. “I’m more surprised that you seem to like it,” he said breathlessly. He pushed the blanket between himself and Erik down and something akin to terror swept through Erik. Rubbing a cloth-covered cock was one thing, but the flesh of it was an entirely different matter. 

His body language must have betrayed his discomfort, because Charles changed tactics. He turned to Erik and gently but firmly pushed him onto his back. “Do you think you could stand for me to suck your cock?” he asked, in a teasing tone that nevertheless had a slight edge to it. Without waiting for an answer, he unbuttoned and started to unzip Erik’s jeans.

Erik felt something unpleasant that he couldn’t quite identity in his chest. “Wait,” he said, putting a hand on Charles’ hand. “Just...can we...slow down.” He closed his eyes and didn’t look at Charles. It was a terribly uncomfortable feeling, because he didn’t like feeling like he was the one who was...who didn’t have the control, or the experience, or something…

He didn’t want to feel like the girl. 

Erik sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. 

“Do you want to stop?” Charles asked in a quiet voice.

Erik sighed again and turned his head slightly to look at Charles. “I need clothes,” he said flatly. 

Charles’s face colored slightly and he looked away. “I thought you might,” he said after a moment. 

“So what gets me that?” Erik said bluntly, watching Charles. “Is it, for instance, one blowjob per outfit? Or per piece of clothing? Can I get even a pair of socks for a handjob? What exactly is the exchange rate? I mean, you’ve kind of cornered the market, haven’t you?”

Charles’ face was a stony mask. “Perhaps we shouldn’t do this right now,” he said in a mild but slightly exasperated tone. 

A part of Erik reacted to that with a huge swell of relief, but it was immediately followed by annoyance. He’d gotten this far. It wasn’t easy for him, and he didn’t want to have to start over. 

Besides, his dick was hard.

Erik’s hand shot out and clutched Charles’ hair by the back of his neck. “Suck my dick,” he growled. 

Charles looked at him in surprise. “Are you sure?”

Anger flashed in Erik and he shoved Charles’ face up against the crotch of his jeans and ground his hips up against his face. It couldn’t be comfortable for Charles, especially with the zipper in the way. 

Charles shoved his jeans down and swallowed his cock to the root. 

Erik let out a loud groan and threw his head back. God, but it felt good, the feeling of Charles’ hot mouth surrounding his dick completely, with Charles almost succeeding in pressing his nose fully against Erik’s abdomen. 

Erik kept his eyes closed although his mouth was involuntarily open as Charles started sucking and licking his cock with true skill. With his eyes closed, he could almost imagine that Charles was a particularly assertive and unself-conscious woman slurping his cock. 

Almost, but not quite. 

Erik had started to feel the orgasm building in his balls when Charles abruptly pulled off. “I want you to fuck me,” he said. 

For a split second, Erik didn’t understand; how he could he fuck Charles, if he didn’t have a vagina? 

Understanding followed immediately.

“Yes,” is all Erik said. Charles gave him a quick grin and jumped off the bed to rummage in his nightstand drawer. Charles was completely naked, Erik realized, and he had been the whole time. 

_What the hell,_ Erik thought, and skivvied out of the rest of his clothes. Charles was reaching behind himself to do something, he noticed; it looked like he was putting lube up his ass, Erik realized. He’d never had anal sex and hadn’t really thought about that being part of the process, but it made sense. 

Charles came over to him and very matter-of factly sucked on his dick for a moment, then unrolled a condom on his cock. He started to climb on top of Erik when Erik realized what he was doing.

“No,” Erik said suddenly. Charles, with one leg up, froze and stared at him with wide eyes. 

“Not like this,” Erik clarified. “I need—I want to be—behind you.”

Charles blinked. “Alright,” he said. He climbed off Erik, but stayed on his hands and knees, with his ass towards the side of the bed. 

Erik rolled up off the bed and onto his feet. He looked down at Charles, facing away from him. Charles’ ass was surprisingly round and smooth for being on a man, and looked completely hairless.

He could do this. 

Erik grabbed Charles by his hips and tugged him to the side of the bed so that Erik could remain standing. He looked down and saw his target, the place where his cock was supposed to fit. He pressed his cock against the pucker, feeling it open enough to admit his cock, but so, so tight. He clutched Charles’ hips and groaned as he sank it in further, not too quickly, but not slowly, either. Charles was gasping and groaning but he didn’t seem like he wanted Erik to stop. In fact, he seemed to be pressing back, urging Erik on. 

“You like feeling my cock splitting you open?” Erik said, his words thick and guttural. He clutched Charles on the hips so tightly it had to bruise, pulling him as close to Erik as possible, until Erik could feel his balls touching what had to be Charles’ balls.

“Yes,” Charles said, his voice low and breathy. “Do you like fucking my ass?”

The question made Erik angry for some reason, and he snapped his hips back and forward again once, hard. Charles let out a sharp yelp but didn’t tell Erik to stop. Erik wrapped his right hand around Charles’ throat from the back and used that grip, along with his left hand that was still on Charles’ hip, to start driving himself into Charles, harder and deeper than he could remember having fucked anyone before. 

Charles grabbed the hand around his throat with both of his, but did not pull the hand off; he just clutched it hard, working his fingers between Erik’s palm and his own neck. Of course, since his hands were no longer holding him up, he fell facedown on the bed in the process. 

This only made fucking him easier, though. Erik started pounding him, hard and fast, coming out far on each stroke and going in deep. He instinctively pursued what felt the best, and so within a few minutes, he was just working his fat cockhead in and out of the tight ring of muscle, idly noticing that Charles made more noise when he did that, too. 

He became aware at that point that a string of obscenities was coming out of his mouth. “You fucking love this, you love my cock in your ass,” he realized he was saying and immediately shut his mouth. He had always been quiet during sex before; what was happening?

“Can you please—let go—of my neck,” Charles choked out. 

Erik let go. He had an immediate stab of guilt, followed by a surge of resentment. Charles wanted this; he wanted Erik here; he should take it anyway Erik wanted to give it. 

He stared down at the round ass his cock was still slowly rocking in and out of. Charles’ face was to the side, pressed against the blanket, and he had reached his hand down to his own cock, or at least Erik assumed so, since he couldn’t see. But it was an uncomfortable reminder that Charles was a man, a man with a penis; Erik had touched it, in fact. He remembered that first time, for a moment, in the hotel room in LA; the familiar yet also unfamiliar feeling of a cock in his hand...

Erik felt his erection start to fade. 

_Shit, shit, shit._ Well, maybe as long as Charles climaxed, he wouldn’t notice or care if Erik couldn’t finish. “What do you need?” Erik asked, his breath ragged. He hoped he was conveying urgency; maybe Charles would think he was about to climax, and not the opposite. 

“I want to see you,” Charles said. 

Erik stopped moving for a moment. “How?” he asked.

Charles pulled away until Erik’s cock was no longer inside him and turned onto his back. “Like this,” he said. His knees were up, and he started tugging on his cock as he looked up at Erik, his eyes glassy. 

Erik stared down, starting to feel panicked. This was a _man_ under him. In this position, there’s no way he could even pretend that Charles was a woman. 

“Put your cock inside me,” Charles said, licking his lips. 

Erik thought his dick might be just hard enough for that to work. He moved closer and pressed himself against Charles’ hole, closing his eyes and focusing on the tight sensation instead of what it signified. Yes, it was better with his eyes closed. He rocked in and out of the tightness, imagining he was making love to a beautiful women. 

A woman who was groaning in the baritone register. 

Erik opened his eyes again. Charles was close, clearly; his cock was turgid and red and his face was sweaty and flushed. He was looking at Erik through eyes that were barely open. 

It was—kind of hot, Erik realized; perhaps just the fact of seeing another human so close to their release. He started to fuck Charles harder and more deeply, feeling his cock stiffening and thickening. 

“Oh fuck, oh shit, yes,” Charles gasped, and then came with a groan, painting his stomach and chest in strands of milky fluid. Erik kept fucking him through it, steadily; he realized abruptly that he was close as well. 

Erik leaned forward on his hands and kept fucking Charles, harder. Charles was squirming a bit and his face looked like he was uncomfortable. 

“Do you—” Erik hesitated, both wanting and not wanting to ask the question, not wanting to stop himself and resenting the part of himself that could tell Charles wanted to. “Should I—stop?”

“Soon,” Charles said, his face betraying his discomfort. “If you’re close, I can take a bit more.”

Erik nodded and closed his eyes again, trying to think of beautiful women...all he could see was Charles’ face. He remembered when he had fucked Charles’ face, how his neck had bulged with veins as he’d tried not to choke on Erik’s cock—

With a loud groan, Erik came. He slowed down a bit but still kept going, sliding in and out of Charles’s ass, holding the rim of the condom as it slowly loosened. It would have felt a lot better if his headache hadn’t picked that moment to flare up. In fact, his head hurt a lot; it was pounding with pain. 

The world started to go dark around the edges of his vision and Erik collapsed on top of Charles as he lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! I'm sorry, don't hate me, but I'm not sure when I'll be able to update again. Best case scenario, next week; worst case, January :(


	6. Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well look who finally updated! :D

The light felt like it was stabbing his eyes. Erik moaned and moved his hands to his face.

“Sorry,” someone said, a new voice. It was male and unfamiliar...and it didn’t sound that sincere. “Pupils reacting unevenly...when did he hit his head?”

“A few days ago,” Erik heard Charles say. “They gave him some medicine for it.”

“Has he been taking it?”

Erik heard Charles clear his throat in what sounded like embarrassment. “I, ah, I’m not sure.”

Erik’s head was still hurting badly, but with his hands over his eyes he mumbled, “Don’t want painkillers.”

There was a pause and then the doctor spoke again. “I seriously doubt any medical professional would have prescribed painkillers to a man with a concussion and brain swelling. Can I see the bottle?”

Erik heard Charles’ footsteps retreat and then return a minute later. 

Erik heard a pill bottle moving and then it was quiet for a moment before the doctor spoke again, in a voice that was slow and not-quite patronizing. “Mr. Lehnsherr, these are steroids, not painkillers. They are used to treat swelling; in your case, the swelling of your brain due to your concussion.”

The doctor stopped until Erik nodded in acknowledgement. 

“You shouldn’t abruptly discontinue steroids; it’s better to taper down,” the doctor continued. “Although, I’m surprised they discharged you from this hospital at all. You seem to have a very bad concussion.”

Erik moved his hands from his face and looked at the doctor for the first time. He was a tall and lanky young man with horn-rimmed glasses who looked far too young to have the authority he was speaking with. 

Erik said the only thing he could think about. “My head hurts.”

The doctor frowned at him. “It might be better for you to go the hospital.”

“No,” Erik and Charles said simultaneously. 

The doctor held up his hands in defensive defeat. “Ok, fine. I’m only the doctor. Disregard my advice.”

“Hank, I appreciate your advice very much,” Charles said warmly to the doctor. Erik saw the doctor’s lips tighten as he put the light he had been shining into Erik’s eyes into a briefcase. Hank closed his briefcase and left the room without another word.

Charles followed the doctor out, but Erik couldn’t hear more than Charles calling “Hank, please…”

Erik lay on the bed for a moment and picked up the bottle of pills next to him. His full name was on the bottle, along with the name of a doctor Erik could not remember ever meeting. The drug was called methylprednisone. Erik thought about googling the name of the drug to see what it’s effects were but remembered that he didn’t have a phone or computer and hadn't seen one in Charles’ house yet. 

But at this point, he just wanted something to make his head stop hurting. He opened the bottle and swallowed two pills dry before he realized that his mouth was very dry and he should probably get some water. 

He gingerly sat up and paused for a moment while his head throbbed. He noticed then that he was wearing sweatpants. He stared at them for a moment, not even realizing what was odd about that for at least a minute. He hadn’t worn any pants other than his jeans in months. Charles had told him he didn’t have any clothes that would fit Erik. 

...How did they even get on him? What was he doing before he passed out?

He remembered...kissing, round ass in front of him, the feeling of a tight ring of muscle around his cock...

Erik’s mouth became even more dry as he realized he’d had sex with Charles. Why had he done that? There must have been a reason...he surely wouldn’t have done it just for fun? He was straight. 

The dry mouth was intolerable and Erik was pretty convinced one of the pills was stuck in his throat. He carefully got to his feet and started out the door, only to stop after a few feet when he heard hushed but intense voices. 

“...just incredibly inconsiderate. How did you think I would feel?”

It sounded like the doctor. Erik held perfectly still, trying to hear more. The hallway outside Charles’ room opened the the living room below and in the reflection on one of the panes of glass, Erik could see Charles and the doctor - Hank - standing close together near the living room door. Charles was speaking in low, soothing tones, but Erik couldn’t make out the words. 

Charles reached out to touch Hank on the arm and the doctor pulled back as if burned. He took a step back and looked at Charles for a moment, then said, “Goodbye, Charles,” and left, closing the door behind him with exaggerated carefulness. 

Erik continued downstairs for water. Charles seemed not to notice him until Erik turned on the faucet in the kitchen, when he whirled suddenly to face Erik. 

Erik drank his water and watched Charles watching him. 

“Are you alright?” Charles asked quietly when Erik had finished his glass of water. 

Erik refilled his glass from the faucet. He couldn’t help an incredulous snort leaving his mouth as he did so. “I am very far from ‘alright’.”

Charles walked closer, lit only by the dim glow of the appliance clocks and the light spilling from the foyer. “I should have realized…” he trailed off, his eyes roving Erik’s naked torso.

Erik drank his second glass of water more slowly, leaning against the kitchen counter and facing Charles as he did so. His head was still killing him, but he felt he was seeing things clearly for the first time in a long time. Charles wasn’t a caretaker or protector; he wanted something Erik had. 

And Erik needed all the leverage he could get to get himself healthy and back on his feet. 

There was an anger simmering in Erik, but he pushed it away. Focus. “You said you didn’t have any pants that fit me,” he said in a deliberately mild, almost flirtatious tone. 

Charles stopped walking. He frowned in puzzlement and blinked a few times, then swallowed before he responded, looking down. “I know I said—I didn’t mean that, Erik, I shouldn’t have…” Charles abruptly looked up at Erik in supplication, taking a few steps closer to him. “Let me take you shopping tomorrow. I will buy you all the clothes you need, Erik, I’m sorry I was…” he trailed off again, as if unsure what he was apologizing for. 

Erik observed Charles’ body language in a detached way. Charles felt guilty. Well, good. Erik could use that to his advantage. Erik forced himself to smile at Charles. “Well, it wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy the sex,” he said lightly, wincing as his head chose that moment to throb. “Until my head exploded, that is.”

“You did?” Charles asked softly, his blue eyes looking darker. “You enjoyed it?”

Erik couldn’t remember if he’d enjoyed it or not, actually, but he knew he wasn’t in a condition to do that anytime soon again, and he needed to get as much as he could out of Charles without risking his health again. So he nodded in a way that he hoped looked bashful and then feigned a stabbing pain in his head, stumbling forward against Charles. 

As he’d hoped, Charles’ nurturing side kicked in. “Hank says you need to rest. Do you need help upstairs?” 

Whether he did or didn’t, it wasn’t in Erik’s nature to let someone help him do something so ordinary. But he nodded grudgingly, letting Charles drape Erik’s arm across his shoulders. 

“Did you mean what you said?” Erik asked quietly as they slowly made their way upstairs. “About—buying me clothes?”

“Of course,” Charles said instantly. “Whatever you need, Erik, I mean that.”

It was hard to keep pushing, but Erik knew this was probably his best chance. “Even—something I could wear to a job interview? Maybe a tie?”

“Absolutely,” Charles said firmly. They passed Charles’ room and Erik was relieved that Charles hadn’t just assumed Erik would sleep with him. “I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner here, Erik.” Charles looked like he was about to continue, but at that moment Erik stumbled (for real) and he pulled heavily on Charles’ arm to give himself balance. 

“Maybe not tomorrow,” Charles said, his brow knitted. “I don’t know if Hank would approve; that’s not exactly resting—”

“No,” Erik said, more forcefully than he intended. He forced himself to speak softer—and to walk more carefully. “I need clothes, Charles. I know it wasn’t part of our deal, but it matters to me.” Erik felt a lump forming in his throat and blinked away tears. This was just an act for Charles’ benefit, he reminded himself. “Please.”

Charles shushed Erik and led him inside his room and to his bed. Erik lay down gingerly; sudden movements seemed to exacerbate his headache. “If it’s that important to you, of course we’ll go tomorrow,” Charles said gently. “But for now—did you take the pills?”

“Yes,” Erk said. 

“Good,” Charles said. He looked for a moment like he was about to say something else, but he just squeezed Erik’s hand once, then left. 

Erik was asleep before the door to his bedroom shut. 

**

“What do you need in the way of clothing?” Charles asked Erik while they ate the eggs Charles had fried the next morning. “You mentioned a tie, but I am thinking you need more than that.”

“Just maybe a pair of jeans, some underwear, a couple T-shirts,” Erik said between mouthfuls, before he remembered he should be milking Charles for everything he could get. Oops. 

“Really?” Charles sounded almost more smug than surprised. “It’s going to get colder soon, you know. Don’t you need a coat? Gloves? Hat? Socks?”

Erik shrugged, avoiding Charles’ gaze, although his heart leapt. “I guess so. I hadn’t thought about that.” He glanced up at Charles briefly to see the other man beaming at him. 

“Wonderful,” Charles said warmly. “I love shopping!”

**

Charles’ idea of shopping was very different from Erik’s. At the first store Erik humored Charles by trying on three different outfits, only to find that they all had some imaginary slights that rendered them unacceptable. (“the inseam is crooked,” “the color isn’t consistent,” “It’s not flattering to your waist.”) They did find a few items that passed muster with Charles though. After the second store, Erik realized that being Charles’ dress-up doll was part of the price he would have to pay for the clothing. 

He didn’t see any reason he couldn’t have fun with that, though. “This is too Chad-from-the-rugby-team,” he told Charles as he modeled a polo shirt and khakis and sweater, affecting an arrogant facial expression. Charles laughed heartily and his eyes danced. 

Charles didn’t insist on buying Erik anything that he hated, although he did (unsuccessfully) try and talk Erik into a few garments. By the time the sun was low in the sky, Erik had nearly a complete new wardrobe, including some winter clothes. 

But he didn’t actually have a tie. 

The absence of that tie was weighing on Erik, but he couldn’t force himself to bring it up to Charles. Erik was under the impression they were done shopping when Charles said he wanted to make one more stop—the men’s suit shop Erik had seen the night before. 

Erik was immediately drawn to the same gray suit with the subtle metallic threads that he had admired before. He did his best to ignore it, but Charles, who was at the tie rack, saw him looking at the suit. “That is a lovely suit,” he said appreciatively. “But it seems like overkill for a mechanic job interview, don’t you think?” 

Before Erik could respond, Charles’s eyes went wide and he clapped his hand over his mouth. “I’m so sorry! That was really offensive, wasn’t it?” 

Erik rolled his eyes and shook his head. “No, you’re right. I don’t need a suit like this.” He reached out to touch the sleeve of the jacket anyway.

“But you want it, don’t you?” Charles asked softly.

Erik looked at Charles. Did he know how he sounded? Like he was the devil, trying to get Erik to trade his soul for material possessions—in this case, literal material possessions. “No,” Erik said curtly, dropping his hand from the sleeve. 

Charles smiled slightly and inclined his head in acceptance. He held up a purple tie. “Do you like this one?”

“It’s fine,” Erik said. His good mood had vanished. He’d been almost having fun; reality doused him like cold water. He _was_ a dress-up doll to Charles. A toy. A sex toy. Or a pet, who could be enticed with treats. “I’m going to wait outside.”

“Alright…?” Charles called after him, a question in his voice that Erik didn’t want to answer. 

**  
Erik’s dark mood stayed with him until they got home. Charles tried to initiate conversation a few times, but Erik only grunted. He had clothes now. He should be happy. But Charles was practically projecting expectation, his eyes lingering on Erik’s hands, arms and shoulders. Having an excuse to keep his eyes on Erik all day seemed to have aroused his interest. Erik suspected that Charles wanted to fuck again, even after what happened the night before. 

As they rode the elevator up, Erik felt the abrupt change in elevation make his head throb for a moment. That’s right—his head was injured. He had almost forgotten; that was strange. Erik moaned and put his hands on his temples. 

Charles inhaled softly. “Is your head hurting very badly?” 

“Yes,” Erik lied. Actually, although there was a dull pain, it was better much than it had been since he’d been in the hospital. It seemed the pills were working. 

“Hank said the pills would take about a day to make a difference,” Charles acknowledged. Erik heard the unspoken words: so you will be able to have sex tomorrow. 

“Hopefully,” Erik said. 

Once they were inside the apartment, Erik needed to get away from Charles. He had been with the other man all day, and something about the extended contact was making Erik uncomfortable. Maybe because he could easily guess what Charles was thinking about most of the time when he was looking at Erik; it was written all over his face. 

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” Erik said. “This was a long day for me.” He touched his head to lend credence to his words. 

“You don’t want dinner first?” Charles asked, looking forlorn. 

Erik shook his head. “No thanks.”

He gathered the bags of his new things (which Charles had been carrying) and went upstairs. He remembered to take his pills and take off his clothes before he passed out on the bed. 

**

Erik woke up feeling disoriented. He had slept deeply, and his head hardly hurt at all. It was still dark outside, even though he felt like he’d gotten a full night’s sleep. He was thirsty and he had to take a piss, though.

He lay there for a moment, feeling more awake by the moment. He remembered that he had gone to bed early, which might explain why he felt wide awake and fully rested in what appeared to be the middle of the night. 

Erik rifled through the shopping bags that were on the floor by the door until he found one of the new pairs of jeans Charles had purchased for him and put those on. He slipped out the door and went to the bathroom. There was no glass in the bathroom, so after he was done in there he went downstairs to the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

Erik gulped the water and was about to go back upstairs when he saw a small, moving, orange-red glow coming from the dark living room. He took a hesitant step in that direction. “Charles?”

The small glow grew brighter, and he heard a sigh. “Erik.”

Erik took a step closer. The kitchen had more illumination than the living room, so Charles must have seen him first. _> I should just go back to bed,_ Erik thought. Against his better judgement, he said, “Everything alright?”

Charles huffed. “Not really.” Erik heard the clink of ice in a glass. 

Erik paused, not sure what to do. Clearly Charles was in a strange mood—Erik remembered that he’d been firmly against alcohol before. 

“Sorry,” Charles said after a moment. “I’m—really sorry, Erik. I’m not a good man.”

Erik studied the darkness where he could just barely make out Charles’ shape, sitting on the couch. “Because you’re an alcoholic?”

Charles was quiet a moment, then Erik heard the ice move again and then heard Charles audibly swallow. “That, too.”

Erik didn’t know what to say or do. He desperately wanted to leave but he also couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

Charles let out a long exhale. The couch squeaked as he leaned forward and stubbed out his cigarette in what was presumably an ashtray, but Erik couldn’t quite make it out in the darkness. He stood up. “I’ll buy a plane ticket for you back to Los Angeles tomorrow,” he said in a flat voice, turning to face Erik. “You can keep the clothes.”

Erik’s mouth opened in surprise. “You don’t—wait, what?”

“I know you don’t want to be here,” Charles said. His words were slightly slurred, but he didn’t sound that intoxicated. “I’ve been fooling myself.”

“If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here,” Erik said. He felt a curl of panic in his stomach. He didn’t want to go back to the streets. He wasn’t ready. 

“You don’t like me,” Charles said, stepping forward into the faint light from the kitchen. His cheeks were red and the whites of his eyes were slightly bloodshot, contrasting with the blue of his irises starkly. His hair was tousled. “You pull away away from me. I’m not blind or stupid.”

“I told you that I wasn’t gay,” Erik said evenly, forcing himself not to take a step back. 

Charles looked at his face as if he was memorizing it. “You did,” he said softly. His eyes traveled down Erik’s chest and Erik wished that he had thought to put on a T-shirt as well as the jeans. “You must think I’m a fool,” he said softly. To Erik’s horror, a tear welled up in Charles’ eye. 

Erik rubbed his face with both hands. “I don’t think you’re a fool, Charles. I think you are a kind and generous man. I...want to be here. I’m...trying.”

“You don’t want me to touch you,” Charles whispered. “It’s best that I let you go.”

Erik swallowed. He took Charles’ hand by the wrist and placed it on his chest. “I’m trying.” His heart was pounding. Was he trying to seduce Charles? Did he have a choice, if the other option was being sent home?

Charles stared at his hand on Erik’s chest. He started to shake his head and withdraw and panic struck Erik. He put his hands on either side of Charles’ face. “I’m trying,” he said again, watching as another tear spilled out of Charles’ other eye. He swallowed and leaned forward, kissing Charles on the mouth, as gently as he could. He could feel one of them trembling; he wasn’t sure which of them it was. Maybe it was both of them. Charles sighed and opened his mouth slightly, an invitation which Erik felt he had to take. He slipped his tongue just inside Charles’ mouth, trying to not to second-guess what he was doing. 

Charles slid both his hands down Erik’s sides and around to his ass, outside Erik’s pants, for which Erik was silently grateful. After what he deemed was an appropriate length of time, Erik pulled back from the kiss. Charles immediately kissed his neck, then his collarbone, then his pectoral. Erik tipped his head back and tried not to think. The kissing felt nice, he told himself. There were worse things in this world than being kissed by a man.

Charles started kissing lower on Erik’s body and Erik felt himself start to tense up. “Shhh,” Charles whispered into his abdomen, stroking Erik’s flanks like he was a skittish animal. “I just want to make you feel good.”

Ok, this was happening. Erik swallowed. “I should sit down,” he said, apologetically. “My head…”

“Of course,” Charles said immediately. He straightened up and Erik sat down on the couch where Charles had been sitting previously. Charles was immediately straddled him, kissing his shoulders and Erik had to resist the urge to throw him off. He put his hands against Charles’ chest, holding him off slightly. Charles sat up straight, putting distance between their torsos, although he was still straddling Erik’s thighs. 

“Please,” Erik said, feeling out of his depth and out of balance. “Just—slowly.” 

Charles nodded. He slid backwards and knelt between Erik’s legs instead, stroking Erik’s thighs and squeezing occasionally until Erik realized he was tense and forced himself to relax again. 

Charles reached up and started to unbutton Erik’s jeans. He was moving slowly, and Erik relaxed into it, closing his eyes and tipping his head back again. _This_ was easy; receiving oral sex was just about the best option for him under the circumstances. 

He wasn’t wearing underwear, so when the pants were fully unbuttoned, his cock was out. But something was wrong. Erik felt Charles’ hands on his cock, moving gently, but his cock was not responding. It was perfectly flaccid. 

“Uh,” said Erik. He wanted to say something like ‘this has never happened before’ but it felt too much like a cliché, even though it was true. He reached his hand down and started to jerk himself off roughly. “I’m sorry, I can—”

He felt Charles soft lips and tongue on the head of his cock and stopped stroking himself. Charles picked up his hand and gently moved it off his cock as he attempted to lick life into the limp cock. He sucked it into his mouth and did things that felt so good that they should have had Erik as hard as a rock, regardless of his sexual orientation. But the listlessness would not leave. 

After Charles had been working at it for about 15 minutes, he pulled off and sat back. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Erik said, frustrated. “What you are doing feels amazing, and I could get it up before. I’m really sorry.”

Charles seemed surprised and actually a little pleased by Erik’s words. “It’s all right,” he said. “I actually have the opposite problem.”

Charles paused and there was an air of expectation. Erik’s eyes widened. His mouth felt dry. “I’m—shit, please Charles, I can’t—I’m trying, but I’m not—yet...I can’t suck your cock,” he said, hoping desperately that he wasn’t going to make himself homeless again. But his mind balked. He couldn’t even contemplate doing that. 

If Charles was disappointed, he masked it quickly. “You seem to enjoy kissing me,” he said lightly. “Maybe you could do that while I take care of myself.” 

That...actually didn’t sound too bad, although Erik thought the word ‘enjoy’ might be stretching it a bit. “I can do that,” he said in a low voice that he hoped sounded sexy. 

Charles grinned like a child on Christmas morning. He sat down next to Erik, opening his pants while he eagerly turned his face towards Erik. Erik stroked a hand through Charles’ hair as Charles closed his eyes, his hand moving furiously on his cock. An idea crossed Erik’s mind and instead of just kissing Charles’ lips, he pressed a series of soft kisses to Charles’ cheek, forehead, and chin before he pressed his lips to Charles’ again. Charles made some gratifying soft breathy sounds and Erik felt ambivalent—uncomfortable that he was doing something so intimate, but smug that something so innocent was pleasing Charles so much. Sure enough, shortly after Erik had brought their lips together, Charles was coming, gasping against Erik’s lips. 

Charles let out a happy sigh and relaxed against Erik, resting his head on Erik’s shoulder. Erik put his arm around Charles’ shoulder. This wasn’t bad. Affection, he could do. At least it seemed that way. 

“I bought you that suit,” Charles murmured after a few minutes. 

Erik felt a warmth in his heart, once he hadn’t felt in a long time. How silly, to be so touched by something like that. But he was. “You didn’t have to do that,” Erik whispered, leaning his cheek against the top of Charles’ hair. 

“I wanted to,” Charles said. “Besides, it will give me an excuse to plan a party.”

The ramifications of that statement would not strike Erik until days later.


	7. Charles' Trip

For the next few days after that, Erik tried not to be at Charles’ apartment as much as possible. He woke up early every morning, grabbed something to eat from the refrigerator (usually some fruit or cheese, and some kind of bread) and left around the time the sun was coming up every day. He spent most of his time just walking around Manhattan. It was cold outside, although it wasn’t late enough in the year that it was snowing yet, but he had a warm coat now and he found being outside a lot more tolerable when he knew he had a warm bed to go sleep in at night. **  
**

The pain in his head was significantly better; clearly the medicine the doctor had given him was working.

Erik knew he should be planning how to get back on his feet financially, but every time he thought about how he should approach that his mind felt like it got stuck going in circles. He needed to get internet access to get information, he needed to find who was hiring, find some job listings...he would arrive at the conclusion that he needed a smartphone or internet device, and the only way he could realistically get one of those—apart from stealing one—was from Charles. And at that point in the thought process, his mind would shy away. He didn’t want to contemplate that. He didn’t want to think about what Charles might want from him in exchange. 

He made a habit of arriving home late in the evening, well after the sun had gone down. He often ran the last mile or so to ensure that he would be sweaty (and hopefully less appealing?) when he arrived, and that also gave him a good excuse to head directly to the shower. But he didn’t see Charles at all after he got home the first three nights, so on the fourth night he didn’t bother running. 

So of course that was the night that Charles waited up for him. 

Charles was very obviously sleepy. He blinked wide eyes and turned off the television as Erik walked by the living room. “Erik,” he said. “Can I speak to you for a moment, please?”

Erik braced himself to be presented with another ultimatum regarding ‘get fucked or get out’ from Charles. 

“Unfortunately I have to leave town on business for a bit, two weeks to be precise, and I was wondering if you would feed my plants while I am gone?”

Erk blinked. Well, that wasn’t what he had been expecting to hear. And plants? Charles had plants?

Charles gestured vaguely to the balcony and Erik recalled there were a few scattered potted plants out there. 

As he stared into the reflection of the room in the glass of the balcony doors, as if he was looking at the plants on the balcony, Erik wondered if this was a trick. 

“As for food, you should be set; the pantry is full, as you know, but you are also welcome to use my GrubHub account.” Charles smiled tiredly at Erik’s blank look. “They can deliver food from nearly any restaurant you want.”

Erik processed that and felt a spark of hope when he realized the implication. “That’s—great. Wow, thank you. How, uh, how do I reach them?”

“Oh, the number’s by the phone,” Charles said. “I’ve also left my cell number and Raven’s—”

“Phone?” Erik asked blankly..

“Oh, the—did I never tell you? There’s a phone next to the kitchen, in the alcove just before the laundry room.”

Erik walked to where Charles indicated, and sure enough: a phone sat on a base with a notepad next to it with some names and numbers neatly printed on it. 

“A landline,” Erik said, as comprehension dawned. His hope of internet access slowly sank. 

“Yes, exactly,” Charles said warmly. “I know it’s quaint, and I hardly use it anymore, but it does come in handy occasionally.”

There was an awkward pause. Erik looked at Charles and saw the other man blearily rub one eye. 

“Oh,” Charles said suddenly. “This is bad timing, I know, but my party will be the day after I get back. So I will be coordinating some vendors those last few days before I get home, and if you could be here to let people in, that would be appreciated.”

The party. That’s right, Charles had wanted a party. “Sure,” Erik said slowly. He was trying to process everything. 

There was another awkward pause. Charles coughed into his hand. “One more thing,” he said. His voice got serious. “You know why I invited you to live with me. It hasn’t worked out quite as I had thought it would...but anyway, since I’m leaving town and giving you the run of my very expensive home for two weeks, I thought it would be not unreasonable to ask for sex.”

Erik sucked in his breath. There it was, then. “You said it would be only when I wanted it.”

“I did,” Charles acknowledged. “But that was before I realized how hard you would work to avoid temptation. And yet, you do want to stay here, don’t you?”

“I don’t really have any other options right now,” Erik pointed out through clenched teeth. 

“Nonsense,” Charles said. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, cool and collected; not the desperate drunk he had been a few nights earlier. “You have more options now than you did when I met you.”

Erik felt like his back was against the wall. Yes, he did have an option: be homeless again. He was choosing not to be homeless; he was choosing to have sex with a man instead. 

“What do you want?” Erik asked, defeated. He raised his eyes to meet Charles’.

Charles sighed and frowned very slightly. “Why is it always like pulling teeth with you? I know you can enjoy this. Can’t we just...let what happens, happen?”

<i>No, because if it was up to me, nothing would happen,</i> Erik thought. But it didn’t sound like Charles wanted to push the envelope much, either. So that was good. Because if he asked Erik for more than he’d given so far...Erik didn’t know if he would hold out. The idea of having a cock in his ass or his mouth was still unpleasant, but, if he was being honest with himself, not as unpleasant as the prospect of living on the street again. 

He was tired of the battle; the stress of feeling like he was in a constant but silent battle of wills with Charles. Having sex with a man was not that bad, he reasoned. Plenty of men enjoyed it a lot. And it was far from the worst thing that could happen to Erik.

Charles seemed to have taken Erik’s silence for the assent that it was. “You usually shower after you come home,” he murmured, his eyes traveling down Erik’s body. “I thought we could shower together.”

“Fine,” Erik said. He pivoted on his foot and walked numbly to the bathroom and started taking his clothes off. He folded each item and put it on the bathroom counter, in a neat stack. His mind was blank. <i>Just don’t think about it,</i> he told himself. One foot in front of the other. Just keep swimming.

Charles had walked in behind him and had shimmied out of his clothing more quickly than Erik—probably because he left them all in a pile on the floor. He got into the large shower and started running the water to warm it up. 

Erik stood just next to the shower, naked and unmoving, until Charles said softly, “Erik.” Then Erik stepped into the shower. 

Charles gave him a big smile that Erik did not return. Charles shrugged and squirted some liquid soap from a nearby plastic bottle into his hands. “Come closer; I’m going to wash you.”

Erik took a step closer and closed his eyes. He tried not to react when he felt Charles’ hands on his body, warm and slippery. 

Charles started on Erik’s shoulders, soaping him thoroughly, including under his armpits and down his back. Erik tensed when he felt Charles’ fingers in his cleft, soaping and cleaning there, too, and Charles murmured, “Shh, it’s okay.”

It was far from okay, but Erik had chosen this. He had chosen it. 

Charles thoroughly cleaned Erik’s feet and legs before he knelt and started to gently lather Erik’s cock and balls. His strokes became long and sensuous. Erik was getting an erection despite himself. Charles made an appreciative noise and stood up. 

“Time to rinse,” he announced, and pulled the handheld sprayed out of its perch to spray warm water all over Erik’s body, rinsing the lather away--except for the lather on Erik’s cock, which he for some reason carefully avoided. 

“I would love to fuck you,” Charles murmured, “I don’t think this is the right setting for that. But I do want to feel your hands on me.”

It was a lot easier for Erik to put his hands on Charles when fucking him was presented as a quasi-alternative. He grabbed the same body wash that Charles had used on him and started washing Charles, a little rougher and less reverently than Charles had washed him. Charles didn’t seem to mind, although he did grasp the shower railing with one hand. 

Just like Charles did, Erik saved Charles’ cock for last—although he suspected it was for a different reason. When he did reluctantly start to lather that area, Charles sucked in his breath and grabbed Erik’s cock. 

Erik tensed and forced himself to relax. He looked at Charles to see that his face was inches away from Erik’s. “Let’s do each other,” Charles suggested in a whisper. With his hand on Erik’s cock and Erik’s hand on his, his meaning was pretty clear...and tolerable. Erik could do that. 

He closed his eyes and put his head back, stroking Charles’ cock with his right hand and trying to let his mind leave his body. 

“Keep your eyes open.”

Erik ignored the words at first until Charles repeated them, more insistently. Erik set his jaw and opened his eyes, biting back his instinctive contrary response. Charles’ eyes were blazing. While they jerked each other off, he stared at Erik with an intensity that Erik could hardly believe, let alone describe. He looked almost—angry?

It didn’t matter. Charles was going to be gone for a fortnight, and by the time he got back, Erik would be gone. He’d figure something out; he had to. 

Making that resolve buoyed Erik considerably. Yes, he could get through this, because this is the last time it would happen. 

He leaned forward suddenly and kissed Charles full on the mouth, tongue plunging forward, with no finesse. They way Charles treated him made him feel dirty and he was going to act dirty. He felt Charles shudder and tense up and wasn’t surprised when his ejaculation followed seconds afterward.

Erik pulled back from the kiss and smirked despite himself at the glazed expression on Charles’ face. “We good?” he murmured. He subtly tried to angle his body so that Charles’ hand would slide off his cock.

But Charles wasn’t having it. “I want you to come,” he said bluntly, his eyes roaming Erik’s face, looking for something he would not find.

Erik sighed. “I don’t know if I will,” he said honestly. 

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Charles said lightly. Erik wondered if that was in the handbook of rich people platitudes.

Erik’s cock was only getting softer with each stroke, though.

“You prefer this?” Charles asked, and dropped to his knees. His mouth engulfed Erik’s cock before Erik understood what he was asking, and oh lord, it felt good. Charles seemed to have no gag reflex, taking all of Erik’s huge member in his mouth easily, his throat undulating on Erik’s shaft. 

It felt good, really good; Erik’s cock was definitely getting harder. But it wasn’t quite good enough. After a few minutes Erik rested his hands on Charles shoulders. “Hey, I don’t think—”

And then he felt something intrude; something that made him gasp and clench and to his horror he realized he was coming, hard, his embarrassingly loud groans echoing off the walls of the shower. 

“What the fuck?” Erik snarled, pushing Charles away. “You can’t—you should have <i>asked!</i>!”

“You clearly enjoyed it,” Charles said, picking himself up off the floor of the shower. “It was just a finger, Erik.”

“It was—I never—you should have asked,” Erik said, feeling confused and upset. His mind was grasping for a word...violated. He felt violated.

“You would have said no,” Charles said, soothingly. As if that was a reasonable answer. As if Erik was overreacting.

He couldn’t even articulate why he felt so angry. Erik wanted to punch him. And he could; he could punch Charles, right here and now, and it would feel good. But Charles would kick him out. And Erik would be homeless. And so it goes. 

Erik swallowed his rage and shame. He took a deep breath. He fixed Charles with a stare and was silently grateful that none of the tears he felt prickling behind his eyelids were falling. “You should have asked.”

Charles was silently drying himself off. He stopped at Erik’s words and looked at Erik. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that without warning. I’m sorry, Erik.”

He sounded sincere, but...Charles always sounded sincere. 

Maybe he was just good at lying. 

It didn’t matter, Erik reminded himself. Charles was going out of town and by the time he came back, Erik would have a job and be long gone. 

__

The first few days were incredible. Having the use of Charles’ home without Charles around made Erik almost giddy. He had been homeless in Los Angeles just a week before; now he had a huge penthouse all to himself. He watched a lot of tv and ordered every kind of decadent food he could think of. He was even starting to get a little tummy from all the food, which reminded him oddly of his mother. She was always trying to “fatten him up.” Erik felt she would have approved of the tummy. 

She wouldn’t have approved of anything else about the situation, but Erik tried not to dwell on that. 

A week or so after Charles left, Erik suddenly realized he hadn’t been out of the house since Charles had been there. And he hadn’t had contact with another human being (unless you counted the people who took his phoned-in food orders). 

“I need to go out,” Erik said out loud. He was craving people; connection. 

He didn’t know where he was going to go, but he figured somewhere with people and music couldn’t be too hard to find in Manhattan. 

He put on one of his new white T-shirts and his new jeans—the pair that were a bit tighter than he was comfortable with. He shaved too, because why not? When he put on his leather jacket and looked at his own reflection, Erik was pleased. His appearance had not ever been something he’d really taken pride in, but he had gathered that people found him attractive, and for the first time he thought he could see that in the mirror, too. 

He didn’t have money, so he would have to find somewhere that didn’t charge a cover, but since it was a weeknight he didn’t think that was impossible. He did take a couple slugs from Charles’ whiskey bottle first, though. 

It was past sunset by the time he left the apartment, and the night air was just cold enough that it felt good on his face. He walked at a comfortable pace, passing several likely establishments before he found one that seemed the right fit. It wasn’t a nightclub; in fact it seemed to be a restaurant, but it had a busy bar and a raucous feel. 

And most importantly, they weren’t charging a cover. 

Erik gave the doorman his best smile and asked if he could sit at the bar. The doorman waved him in, bored. 

Erik took a seat at the bar. For the first time since he had seen his reflection in the mirror, his confidence started to flag as he realized—he was expected to spend money. That’s what people did in restaurants and bars. 

The bartender caught his eye and raised his eyebrows in question and Erik shook with head with an apologetic smile. The bartender shrugged and moved on to the next person. 

So he could get away with it for a while, at least. That was good. 

He turned to face the room. There was a variety of ages and cultures represented, and everyone was loud and most people were drunk. 

“Buy me a drink?”

The voice was close to his ear; coy and female. Startled, Erik turned too fast and knocked his head against hers. 

“Ow!” a woman’s voice said, half-laughing but half-sincerely. She was holding a hand to the side of her face. “That was my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Are you alright?” Erik asked. She seemed to be in her early twenties, with shoulder-length dark hair. Tattoos decorated her bare shoulders. She was...really pretty, actually. 

“Well, I might have a concussion, but some people would say that’s an improvement,” she joked, then sighed when Erik only frowned. “I’m fine.”

“Head injuries are no laughing matter,” Erik said...and immediately wanted to kick himself. 

“Right,” she said, nodding in disappointment. “Well, I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again.” She slid off the stool and started to walk away. 

“Wait,” Erik said. His heart was pounding. Why couldn’t he talk to women? “That came out wrong. I wish I could buy you a drink. But I can’t.”

She turned and gave him a sad smile. “Well, thank you for that. Married?”

He shook his head. “Worse.” He licked his lips before deciding to be honest. “I’m broke.”

She looked at him incredulously for a moment and then snorted. “That <i>is</i> worse.”

“I know.” Erik paused. “And I’m sorry, because you seem like someone I would like to know better.”

A strange look crossed her face. “Well, it’s not like—I mean—I can buy my own drink,” she said. She slowly came back and stood with her hand on the stool next to him, a clear sign that she was thinking about staying but still felt unsure. “That’s just my...well, conversation-starter, I don’t know. Also it usually gets me a free drink.”

Erik laughed. “I’m sure it does. I’m Erik, by the way.”

“Angel.” She smiled a little self-consciously and slid onto the stool. “So why are you broke?”

“That is a really long story,” Erik responded mildly. He didn’t want to talk about his life; he wanted to escape his life. “Anyway, I’d rather hear about you. Can I ask about your tattoos, or is it too soon?”

Angel laughed and looked down, then looked back at him and chewed on her lip with coy shyness. “It’s a little too soon, but I’ll let it slide,” she said, resting her head on her hand.

**

Many hours later, Erik knew a lot more about Angel Salvadore; from what it was like growing up in a mixed-race family to her brief foray into stripping. And he had managed to not tell her anything except his name, and she had even bought him several drinks because she said she hated drinking alone. He had been introduced to a few of her friends, who disappeared soon after they were introduced, giving her sly looks and winks as they left. 

Angel was telling him a funny story about playing a trick on one of her brothers when the lighting in the bar abruptly changed. “Last call,” the bartender said loudly. 

“It’s two am?” Erik asked in disbelief.

“It’s four am, fuck,” Angel exclaimed. “I had no idea it was so late! Well...um.”

Erik knew what he wanted. Angel was beautiful and charming and she clearly liked him. And best of all, she was female. He would have invited her back to Charles’ place already except that he knew it would lead to questions he didn’t want to answer. 

“So...you haven’t...I mean, are you even going to ask for my number?” Angel blurted out in frustration. 

Erik held his hands open and smiled sadly. “I don’t have a phone.”

Her facial expression slowly melted into disillusionment. “Everyone has a phone,” she said flatly. She slid off the stool.

Fuck. “Just because I don’t have a phone doesn’t mean I don’t like you,” Erik said hurriedly. “It’s just—I don’t have a phone for a really crappy reason, and I don’t want to think about that, I want to think about things that make me happy. Like talking to you.”

The expression on her face changed again; disillusionment melted into desire. “Do you want to come back to my place?” she breathed.

“Yes. Absolutely,” Erik said fervently.

**

They took an Uber back to Angel’s tiny flat. She didn’t talk much after that, and neither did Erik, and it was wonderful. He delighted in every feminine detail of her. They had sex three times, and Erik had no trouble getting an erection at any point.

When Erik woke around dawn, Angel was still deeply asleep. Erik lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, debating with himself. He liked Angel; she seemed to like him. Maybe he could stay here. Maybe she would tolerate him for a few weeks, even if they didn’t ultimately work out. 

Angel’s alarm went off loudly. Erik jerked in surprise. Her eyes snapped open and she looked at him. “You’re still here,” she said. 

“Ahh...sorry?” Erik said, with as charming of a smile as he could muster. 

“Oh, no, it’s just...well...my roommate and I have this agreement that we don’t have overnight visitors,” Angel said, reaching for a t-shirt and putting it on without sliding out from under the covers. She seemed to be avoiding eye contact with him.

Erik blinked. The apartment was the tiniest studio he’d ever seen. “You share this place with someone?” 

“She works nights and she’ll be back soon,” Angel said briskly, getting out of bed. She tossed him his pants. “Sorry.”

“Oh...okay.” Erik got out of bed and started putting the pants on. Angel averted her eyes. A distinct feeling of awkwardness settled around them. Erik found his shirt and put that on too, then cleared his throat. “Well, I had fun last night. Maybe we could…?” Erik trailed off as Angel’s face told him all he needed to know. “Okay. Right.”

There was a moment of tense silence as Erik found and put on his jacket. “I just—I’m not really—” Angel paused and licked her lips. “It wouldn’t work out. Yes, I had fun, but…” her voice trailed off. She looked away from him. “Sorry if I led you on.”

“No, no,” Erik protested. “I understand.” He did understand. She didn’t want to date someone who was broke and unemployed. Could he really blame her?

**

Erik walked home in the blue light of morning. It was colder than it has been the night before. He felt depressed and hopeless, even though he had no reason to be. He’d gotten laid, right? And he was staying in a luxury penthouse, at least for another few days. So why did he feel so awful?

He swallowed the lump in his throat. He went up the elevator and walked into Charles’ apartment and stopped, realizing that he had no more impetus to do anything. For an indeterminate length of time he stared out the glass windows onto the balcony and at the skyline beyond. 

Why was he here?

The front door opened behind him. “Well, I guess I’ll be meeting him now then,” Erik heard just before a young and stylishly dressed blond woman walked through the front door. She stopped in surprise when she saw him and then laughed. “Ha! Speak of the devil!”

“Hello?” Erik said uncertainly. He tried to recall if Charles had said anything about a blond woman, but he was drawing a blank. 

“You must be Erik,” the woman said, efficiently putting her phone away. “I’m Raven, Charles’ sister. Nice to meet you. Now, let’s get this place ready for a party!”


End file.
